


Staking Claims

by wingedmermaid



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Demons, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Romance, but ones who aren't very good at what they do, mild violence, mostly just lots of fluffy romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedmermaid/pseuds/wingedmermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin is an incubus just trying to get by in the city. He heads out west to visit his old friend Marco who’s set himself up as a bouncer at a high-end brothel so he can feed on violence without anyone noticing. While there, Armin ends up running into a man he can’t seem to get out of his mind. In pursuit of his prey, Eren, the local sheriff, he moves to town and brings his friend Bertolt the pestilence demon along with him. After Armin gets involved in an alteration between his Eren and some of Eren’s old enemies and decides to lie low for a few days Bertolt — out feeding on his own — ends up getting caught by the local doctor. Meanwhile Marco encounters a friend of Armin’s prey at his workplace who begins to upset the balance of the life he’s built for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [SnK AoT Big Bang 2014](http://snkaotbigbang.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Art drawn for this fic for the Big Bang by the lovely [Loleifos](http://loleifos.deviantart.com/):  
> [Armina and Eren](http://loleifos.deviantart.com/art/SNK-Big-Bang-Part-1-486828356)  
> [The Main Cast](http://loleifos.deviantart.com/art/SNK-Big-Bang-Part-2-487223347?ga_submit_new=10%253A1412802718)
> 
> This story is set in the Gold Rush era of the Pacific Northwest (around the late 1800s I think); however, I just want to start off with a bit of a disclaimer because it is only going to be loosely historically accurate. I researched and drew on my own experiences growing up in an old gold mining town/area but I know for a fact that I am taking a number of liberties. If you’re bothered by historical inaccuracies I can only offer you my sincere apologies. 
> 
> Also, I was serious about the mostly fluffy romance tag.
> 
> This story wouldn't have made it without [Valkyrie-Reborn](http://valkyrie-reborn.tumblr.com/) who let me bounce story ideas off of her and encouraged me or my sweetheart [Fanonorcanon](http://fanonorcanon.tumblr.com/) who beta'd this, found me an awesome title when I was at a complete loss, and stayed up late with me to help me muddle my way though and cheer me on.

“Here you are, sir.” The bald store owner (and also appraiser if the sign on the front of the building was to be believed) set the last tin of food on the counter and began to tally the total. 

“Thank you.” Armin carefully counted out the appropriate number of coins and hastily pushed all of his purchases into his bag. 

“Sheriff!” Armin had to resist the urge to jump as the store owner’s voice boomed out. “What can I do for you this fine day?”

“‘Morning, Pixis,” the soft voice held a smile. “Just some candies. The usual, please.”

“You are going to spoil those kids rotten, Eren.” Pixis scolded even as he took a small cloth bag from the man and turned to scoop an assortment of drop candies from several of the many glass jars on the shelves lining the wall behind the counter.

“Yeah, probably...”

Armin glanced over and found himself looking at a young man in a well-kept if slightly worn around the edges black suit and meticulously shined boots. His brown hair was a little unruly where the edges stuck out from underneath his hat, as if he’d put it on in a hurry. The only thing on him that looked perfectly new was the silver badge in the shape of wings that peeked out from under the lapel of his jacket. Armin would have glanced away then, the boy was rather plain as things went, but the man’s sea-green eyes flicked over to look at him and Armin found himself transfixed. The soul that flickered golden in the depths of that gaze burned brighter than the fire at the centre of a blacksmith’s forge. Almost as brightly as an angel’s. Armin swallowed slowly.

“Hey,” the man said, “You new in town?”

“Ah-” Armin ducked his head, breaking contact with those mesmerizing eyes, and tugged at the brim of his hat. “Yeah. I am.”

“Welcome.” The man smiled shyly. “I’m Eren Jaeger, the local sheriff. If you get into any trouble please come see me at the town office.”

“And be sure not to get yourself into any trouble.” Pixis winked at Armin as he set the now full cloth bag on the scale, eyed it for a moment, then added a couple more candies before tying it off with a piece of twine. “Eren here has quite the record when it comes to outlaws and lawbreakers.”

“Pixis.” Eren’s voice was worried. “Please don’t...”

Armin eyed the sheriff, there was a faint line of worry between his eyebrows as he glanced at Armin again. Armin forced his face to stay bland and licked his lips before he spoke again. “Sounds like you do a lot of good work here, Mr. Jaeger.”

Pixis laughed. “He does indeed! We’re one of the safest towns out there and that’s all thanks to Sheriff Jaeger here.”

“Pixis!” Eren’s cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink.

“Well? How many sheriffs have an arrest record that can hold a candle to yours?” Pixis tossed the bag of candy to Eren and effortlessly caught the coin Eren tossed back even as he looked up and smiled at the new customers being ushered in by the gentle chime of the bell that hung over the door. “Good morning, Miss Lenz!”

Armin watched as Eren glanced toward the door. A small group of young ladies entered the shop, one petite blonde calling out a cheerful greeting to the store owner as they swirled in the general direction of the glass-fronted counter holding the ladies’ accessories in a rustle of skirts and soft murmurs. One of them let out a soft exclamation and peeled off to make a beeline toward the counter where the men were standing. Eren’s eyes widened and he stuttered out a quick farewell, slipping away before Armin could so much as ask to walk with him and ask a few questions about town.

Armin thanked the store owner then headed out the door, tipping his hat to the disappointed-looking young lady now standing alone in the middle of the store. When he got outside he found the sheriff was already halfway down the main street. He paused on the boardwalk in front of the General Store and pursed his lips. Well.

“Hey there.”

Armin jerked around to find a lanky man in a dusty black suit and hat slouched on the bench in front of the store, grinning at him. The man plucked a long piece of desert grass he’d been chewing on from between his soft lips and tilted his head to look Armin over. As he did the sunlight highlighted the man’s fine features, even through the grime artfully smeared over his freckled cheeks. “You’re pretty cute for a demon, kid.”

Armin felt a smirk twist his lips as he stared at the golden brown eyes of the angel. “Nice clothes.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty comfortable. Never could get the hang of those corset things.” The angel got to her feet and took a few slow, sauntering steps toward Armin, looking down at him with amused eyes. “No one in this godforsaken time seems to be able to look past a pair of breasts to see the person behind them and trust me, it’s far easier to give up skirts than it is to find a half-decent front-man.” She flicked away the grass with long fingers. “Marco bringing in reinforcements or somethin’?”

Armin blinked. “No, actually. Just visiting.”

“Good.” She smiled that slow, toothy smile again. “He’s a nice kid. Allegiances aside. Hate to have to run him out of town.”

“This your town then?” Armin tilted his head a little as he watched the tension that had squared her shoulders and straightened her back for a moment flow away like water as she leaned one hip nonchalantly against the hitching post.

“Yeah. I was here first. Name’s Ymir. The little blonde creature inside is under my protection so don’t get any ideas.”

“Hm,” Armin put as much disinterest into the sound as he could. “Actually... I’m looking for information about the man that just left.”

Ymir’s eyes widened and she let out a bark of laughter. “The sheriff? Good lord kid, you don’t look it but you got some balls hidden in those pants.”

Armin narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Boy’s as cracked as fucking chestnut shell.” Ymir turned her head and spit into the roadway. “Local legend has it that he rescued his adopted brother from some toughs when he was nine. Between them they killed all three of the men. Then a year later the Titan Gang blew through town and his parents ended up as collateral damage. Ran the farm alone with his brother until he turned fifteen. Then he set out to hunt down and slaughter the Titans. I hear some sheriff from another town took the kid under his wing and somehow convinced him to get them to justice instead. He managed it, took the heads of the gang and most of its members out of commission, but there’s a lot of folks out there wouldn’t cry if he turned up dead in a ditch.”

“Is that so?” Armin stared down the dusty street in the direction the man had gone.

Ymir snorted and grinned at him. “You’re set on him, huh? Well. I guess if you’re a friend of Marco’s that’s okay. Just stay the hell away from my Krista.”

Armin smiled up at her. “Please believe me when I say I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She clapped him on the back so hard he staggered. “Good. I can see the truth in those dirty little eyes of yours.” 

The girls poured out of the store then and a small, pretty blond came and took Ymir’s arm. “Ymir?”

“Hey, angel,” Ymir’s voice softened and her face transformed from rough to gentle as she stared down at the girl. “This is one of Marco’s friends...” She looked at Armin and raised an eyebrow.

Armin tipped his hat to the girl. “Armin Arlert. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is mine,” She curtsied prettily. “How long are you staying in town, Mr. Arlert?”

“Just a few days.” Armin let the genuine regret show through in his smile. “I have to get back to a friend in the city who’s waiting for me.”

“So soon?” Miss Lenz sounded disappointed. “This is a nice little town. You should stay a while, get to know it.”

“I’d like that...” His eyes wandered down the street again.

“You know, if you’re one of Marco’s friends you’re practically family...” When Armin turned back Miss Lenz was staring up at Ymir.

Ymir made a face but when Krista continued to look pleadingly up at her she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. You want to come back and you need a place to stay, you come talk to me.”

Miss Lenz beamed and Armin smiled as the wheels in his brain turned. “Thank you very much for the offer Ymir, Miss Lenz. I’ll keep that in mind.”


	2. The Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren encounters a beautiful stranger at the town dance and tries to court her but ends up in a bit of trouble.

Across the dance floor Eren spotted a pair of cornflower blue eyes. Their owner hid her face shyly behind her open fan. He started when she clearly shifted the fan from one delicate hand to the other. She was holding it in her left hand now. It had been a while. He wracked his brain for the meaning of her gesture. She... wanted to make his acquaintance? She lowered it but left it open in her left hand and gave him another hesitant glance. 

_Come talk to me_

Eren felt a little flutter in his chest. She was slight and dressed in a modest gown of pale blue calico covered in tiny white flowers that tucked in neatly at her waist then flared in generous curves to hide a pair of no-doubt lovely ankles. Her blonde hair was tucked up under a cute little hat decorated with white silk roses and several sprigs of forget-me-nots that matched the ribbon securing it under her chin. As she turned to look at him he found himself swallowing nervously. Her skin was flawless and her smile reminded him of the perfect porcelain dolls his mother had collected when he was young. When he didn’t move she glanced at him again and gave the fan in her hand a little twirl.

_We are being watched_

Well of course they were. It was a public, town-wide event. Every matron in the room had their eyes on the young people to ensure no impropriety took place. She must have a chaperone somewhere in the crowd around her. As he looked at the ladies standing in her general vicinity the girl switched the fan to her other hand and held it in front of her face again.

_Follow me_

She turned to the right and let the open fan pass over her left ear before she began making her way toward the entrance.

_Don’t betray our secret_

His heart was thumping now. They hadn’t even been introduced for heaven’s sake! As she disappeared he slowly made his way through the crowd surrounding the laughing and twirling dancers — nodding once or twice as people tipped their hats — until he found himself approaching the entrance. It was already dark outside and although he did his best to keep the town clean this was not the kind of area where a young lady should be out of doors on her own after sunset. Especially not with a party on. The drunks were sure to be out and about somewhere. 

He stepped out into the pool of light cast by the lanterns hanging to either side of the hall door and looked around. He caught a glimpse of blue calico sliding into the shadows at his right and made to follow but a hand gripped his shoulder.

“Hey sheriff.” Doctor Braun’s rough-hewn face looked down at him. Eren gave him a concerned look but the man just smiled the gentle smile he was famous for — a strange sight on a person who could break most of the men in town like a twig if he so chose — and handed Eren a hooded lantern. “Thought you could use a little light if you’re going hunting.”

“I’m not going hunting!” Eren felt a flush light up his cheeks. “I’m just worried about her is all. She’s new in town and might not know what’s safe and what’s not yet. Be a shame for her to ruin her reputation.”

Reiner laughed. “Straightest man in the whole region, indeed. How could I ever doubt you, Sheriff?”

The smile Eren gave in return was faint. He knew exactly how well the town thought of him for spending most of his youth focused on achieving just one goal and the reputation that had earned him had its drawbacks. “So I hear.”

“Go on then,” Reiner gave him a pat on the back that staggered him. “I’ll be around if you need me. Don’t let your little bluebird get herself into any trouble.”

“I won’t,” Eren said in a firm voice and stepped off into the night. It didn’t take him long. She’d only gone a few buildings down and was perched prettily on the steps of the darkened church. As he stopped in front of her he was once again nearly blown over by her delicate form and the graceful curve of her neck as she lowered her gaze. He was grateful that the low light of the lantern wouldn’t expose his flushed cheeks.

He set the lantern on the ground between them so that he didn’t have an advantage over her then took his hat in hand and bowed. “My name’s Eren Jaeger, the town sheriff. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, miss...?”

“Armina Arlert, if it please you, Mr. Jaeger,” she said demurely as she glanced at him with those luminous eyes then quickly looked away.

“Miss Arlert,” he repeated in a softer tone as he held his hat to his chest. “Are you new to the town?”

She smiled a tiny, perfect smile. “I just came in on the train today. I’m visiting my cousin...”

“Your cousin?” Eren took another look at her. “You wouldn’t be related to Miss Lenz, would you?”

“How on earth did you guess?” she squeaked, hands flying to her chest.

He smiled at her. “She’s the only other person in town who could hold a candle to your beauty.” As soon as he shut his mouth he realized what he’d said and felt a flush creeping up his neck. “I-I mean...”

“I’m flattered...” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear her words.

Eren cleared his throat loudly. “Well, Miss Arlet, I don’t know about the town you’ve come from but things are a little rough out here and I’m afraid I must escort you back to the dance. If you stay out here too long people will talk.” He offered her his hand. 

She placed her tiny gloved hand in his and he lifted her gently to her feet. She stumbled when the heel of her boot landed on a rock and fell against him with a small gasp. Eren froze for a moment then very carefully took her shoulders in his hands and helped her find her feet once more. He let her go as soon as she seemed to be stable. “Are you okay?” 

“Y-yes...” She was staring at the ground again, a pretty rose coloured blush gracing her cheeks in the unsteady light of the lantern. “Pardon my clumsiness...”

Eren swallowed. “Think nothing of it. Shall we?” He offered her his arm and she took it silently. 

“Thank you...” She murmured as they began to walk back toward the hall, the distant clamour of music and stomping feet leading the way.

“What brought you out to visit your cousin at this time of year?” Eren asked, trying to steer their conversation to safer ground.

“Oh... she said that it’s the most beautiful here when the trees are blossoming...” Miss Arlert seemed to be recovering nicely from her embarrassment.

“It’s true, but there is still a chance of snow until late May. I hope you brought some extra shawls.”

“Indeed I did...” Her steps faltered as they passed a particularly dark shadow. “I-is there something there?”

When Eren turned his head to look there was indeed something in the shadows. But it was fairly small. “Just a raccoon.” The girl clung tighter to his arm, so close he could feel the hard stays of her corset pressing against his skin through the fabric of her dress. He closed his eyes for a moment and did his best to banish the thoughts it had put in his head. 

“Oh...” She leaned even closer somehow. “I’m... I’m not used to wildlife in the middle of town...”

Eren smiled gently and worked very, very hard to keep his eyes away from the delicate curves below her high neckline. “It’s a common enough sight here but if you holler at them they’ll leave you well enough alone.”

“Hey, who’s the pretty thing you got there, Sheriff?” A loud voice echoed out from the darkness behind them.

Eren whirled around and pushed the girl behind him. He narrowed his eyes at the three men in worn clothing standing before him. “Hello, Sawney. I wasn’t expecting you see you around for quite a while after you were sentenced for embezzling Garrison funds. What are you and your boys up to this evening?”

“Jus’ on our way to check out the town dance, Sheriff. No need to be getting your hackles up.” The tallest of the three stepped forward. “We was jus’ wonderin’ who that pretty gal ya got on yer arm was.”

“None of your business, Bean.” Eren felt the girl try to move and tightened his grip on her arm as a warning. “And I’m afraid that the dance hall is already full up this evening. Perhaps next time?”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Jaeger...” The man smirked and took another swaggering step forward. “Although we might put it off fer a little so as to finish up some old business with you...”

Eren set the lantern on the ground then smirked right back. “I would be amenable to that so long as you’ll be so kind as to let me escort this lady back to the dance hall first?”

“Naw...” A shorter, stockier, and even tattier man drawled as he stepped up beside the tall man. “I don’ think that’d be such a good idea. We’ll take her ourselves after we’ve whooped yer ass.”

“Very well, Albert.” Eren slowly began unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves, taking the opportunity to partially turn his head and whisper, “Run and get Doctor Braun and Mr. Ackerman from the dance hall, Miss Arlert.” 

The third man pulled out a long piece of wood and pointed it at Eren. “We’ll make this quick, Sheriff.” Miss Arlert hesitated at his side; staring up into his face.

“Run. Now.” But Eren didn’t even have time to turn and send the girl off before stars exploded across his vision like fireworks and his world went suddenly black.


	3. The Alley Stray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While he's out on emergency housecalls Reiner finds a suspicious stranger wandering the town after dark.

“Hurry, Mr. Braun, sir, I am so very worried for my sister. She’s in a bad state.” 

The boy tugged at Reiner’s hand insistently as they hurried down the silent street. The doctor tried not to make a habit of being up at all hours of the night but it seemed that his community had developed some problematic symptoms of late. Reiner lengthened his stride.

When they reached the house the boy showed him to the sickroom. It was as the boy had described: the worried mother hovering at the bedside as the young girl thrashed and squirmed. Reiner immediately lay his wrist on her forehead, she was burning up. He busied himself with ordering the mother and the boy around as he began his treatment. It seemed that she’d gone from perfectly healthy the day before to a feverish mess literally overnight. He’d given the girl a dose of willow bark tea and set the mother to bathing her forehead and neck with cool water in an effort to bring down the fever. Past that there wasn’t much he could do, not being a strong believer in leeches despite the literature he’d read extolling their virtues.

He washed his hands and took his leave, promising to return in the daytime to check on her. Was this just another of the strange fevers that came as easily as it went? This was the third case this week. Perhaps there it had something to do with the long damp spring this year.

As he shut the door behind him he thought he caught sight of someone hanging about the next house down. Someone very tall. Taller than anyone in the town except for the priest. But whoever it was ducked around a corner before he could get a good look at them. He brushed the strange misgiving in his stomach away as he focused on the problem of the fevers.

Over the next three days two more cases popped up. The fever hadn’t claimed any lives yet but neither had it passed. It was strange how it didn’t get better but never seemed to worsen, either. As if they were in some sort of delirium limbo despite Reiner’s best efforts. He feared that even if the victims did recover they might have lasting damage done to their minds. 

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as he headed home from the latest cases. He just couldn’t understand it. All of them had fallen ill in the dead of night. Stranger still, none of the victims had anything in common in terms of food consumed or activities performed in the days before they’d fallen ill. Not even a single welt from a bug bite to hint at a possible origin. 

As he was turning the problem over in his exhausted mind movement caught Reiner’s eye. A tall shadow darting behind a building. Running on pure instinct and exhaustion he followed it. He made his way through the narrow space between two nearby buildings and looked cautiously out into the alleyway beyond. 

The tall figure from a few nights before was standing in the shadow of another building looking up at the house Reiner had just departed from. Reiner narrowed his eyes. He’d never seen them around town before. Not in the daylight anyway. And as impossible as it seemed Reiner felt sure this person had something to do with this mysterious illness. It was probably just paranoia caused by sleep deprivation — in a gold town like this there were a good number of transients who came through with one train and left with the next — but he couldn’t shake his conviction. So, when the now discernibly masculine form turned and slunk away down the alley, Reiner followed him.

Reiner’s suspicions only deepened as the strange man loitered in the shadows behind each house that had been struck by the strange fever. His gaze would linger on the house for anywhere from around five to fifteen minutes then he would continue on at a meandering sort of pace. When he reached the last house near the outskirts of town Reiner stole up behind him as he stared at the house.

“Hey.”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin and whirled around to stare at Reiner with eyes the size of dinner plates in the pale moonlight.

“What are you doing?” Reiner growled.

“I-I-I...” The man gulped and wrung his hands. “I just...”

“Just what.” Reiner pinned him with his best professionally disinterested look.

“J-j-ju...” The man was actually trembling. As Reiner opened his mouth to demand an answer the tall man let out a frightened squeak and turned tail, fleeing toward the town centre. 

“Hey!” Reiner barked and took off after the man. The stranger had long legs that matched his height and Reiner was forced to abandon his medical bag in order to keep up. Luckily for him it seemed that the man didn’t know the town nearly as well as Reiner did and he cornered him in a blind alley behind one of the larger store warehouses.

“Look!” Reiner was a little winded and took a moment to catch his breath before continuing, “I just want to know what you were doing!”

The man whimpered, actually whimpered, and backed himself up against one of the walls.

“Oh for heaven’s...” Reiner let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look... I’ve not seen you around here before and you were acting a little suspicious is all. What’s your name?”

The man stuttered out something in such a quiet tone that Reiner actually couldn’t decipher the noise he’d made. 

Reiner took a deep, steadying breath and held out his hands to show they were empty. “I’m not going to hurt you. Try that again?”

“H-h-hoover...” The man flinched as Reiner took a step toward him.

“Mr. Hoover? I’m Doctor Braun.” Reiner crossed his arms. “I’d shake your hand but I have a few questions first.” 

The man made another intelligible noise and looked like he was honestly trying to melt into the rough-cut boards behind him.

“Why haven’t I seen you around town before, Mr. Hoover?” Reiner decided to start with more general questions just in case the man turned out to be innocent. 

“I j-just arrived last week...” the man mumbled. Now that he was closer Reiner could see that the man was sweating heavily. Well, perhaps that wasn’t so suspicious as Reiner wasn’t exactly the epitome of put together himself after that run.

“And what’s your business in town?” He pulled out a handkerchief to mop his forehead.

“H-here to... cousin...” The man’s words were becoming quieter again and Reiner could have sworn he was still shaking. When he took a second look at the man he could see that he was wearing a rather fine suit of clothing and looked like he had been recently groomed. As Reiner stared at him he trailed off into unintelligible mumbling.

“Oh for heavens sake.” Reiner grabbed him by the arm. “Come with me.”

The man let out a pathetic squeal and dropped into a crouch, covering his face with his arms and trying to become as small as possible. Reiner pinched his nose and willed away the frustrated frown he wanted to make before he knelt by the tall stranger. He used his best bedside manner voice to say, “Hey. I have a few more questions so I’m going to take you back to my house and make you some tea. Nothing more. How does that sound?”

The tall man slowly looked up at him. “J-just tea...?”

“Just tea,” Reiner said, then added, “Maybe some biscuits.”

“A-alright...” Mr. Hoover didn’t sound convinced but allowed himself to be helped to his feet and Reiner took him firmly by the arm and started marching them back over the path they’d followed during the chase until he found his discarded bag. Then he turned and headed for home. Mr. Hoover didn’t offer the slightest resistance as Reiner pulled him along, just stared fixedly at the ground with a worried frown.

Reiner lived near the edge of town himself on a large property with lots of trees (being at the beck and call of the town he was rather fond of what privacy he could get) so it would occasion no remark if he brought a strange man home in the middle of the night. His housekeeper wouldn’t be in until the morning anyway. He pulled the man up the porch and unlocked the door. 

He didn’t let go of him until they were both inside but when he did Mr. Hoover just stood there, slouching slightly and giving him a rather lost, forlorn look. Reiner cursed his inherent need to care for helpless creatures with every bone in his body as he lit the candlestick waiting for him on the small hall table in the entryway. He took Mr. Hoover’s hat and coat and hung them with his own on the hooks set in the wall then picked up the candlestick and strode into the sitting room. “Come along.”

“Okay...” The man followed timidly behind him, restlessly twisting his long fingers together again as he did so.

Reiner waved him over to one of the sofas set in the room and headed into the kitchen to start a fire and get some water boiling. When he returned Mr. Hoover was just standing by the sofa shifting idly from side to side. Reiner sighed. “You can sit down.”

“Oh.” Mr. Hoover looked down at the sofa then tentatively perched on the very edge. 

Reiner wearily resigned himself to a long night.

 

 

Reiner took sip of the tea he’d poured. “So, who’s your cousin?”

A soft mumble that might have been ‘Ymir.”

“Well, he certainly is tall enough to be a relation of yours. Why’d you decide to come out here?”

A muted slurp as Mr. Hoover took a long sip of tea and avoided Reiner’s eyes.

“I can see that you’re a little too well dressed to be a prospector. What profession are you in?”

Mr. Hoover stared at the plate of biscuits with his strangely bright green eyes.

“Help yourself.” Reiner pushed the plate across the coffee table.

“...Thank you...” He reached out a long arm and hesitantly plucked one from the plate.

“Are you looking to settle in town?”

The soft crunching of a biscuit being chewed stopped and Mr. Hoover just sat there and looked miserable as it no doubt turned to mush on his tongue.

Reiner set down his teacup and sighed. “Alright. What were you doing behind those houses?”

Mr. Hoover washed the biscuit down with a sip of tea and continued avoiding Reiner’s gaze. “I just... like walking at night...”

“Bullshit,” Reiner said crisply. Mr. Hoover flinched and actually found the courage to glance up and meet his eyes.

“I-it’s true... I’m sorry if you think it’s strange...” His lowered his eyes again and a lock of his dark hair fell forward to shadow them.

Reiner set his hands flat on his thighs to avoid pinching his nose again. “And what does your cousin think of your tendency to wander?”

“He-” He curled in on himself a little more. “Doesn’t know, really.”

Reiner frowned. “Are you telling me the truth, Mr. Hoover?”

The man froze and reluctantly met Reiner’s steady gaze. He managed to stutter out what sounded like a yes before his eyes fell back to his lap. His fingers never stopped fidgeting.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard Ymir mention that he’s estranged from his entire family. With pride.”

Mr. Hoover’s cheeks began to glow red.

“And that if he ever saw one of them again he’d shoot them on sight.”

The man made another of those uncomfortably pathetic noises of his.

Reiner closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. “Just... tell me one thing and tell it to me true. Are you really here to visit your cousin?”

“No,” the man whispered.

“Good. Then I’m going to offer you my hospitality for the night.”

There was a long silence as he balked followed finally by a soft, “Alright.”

“Good. I have a spare room. You may stay there so long as you give me your word that you will not leave without telling me in person.”

When Reiner opened his eyes he found Mr. Hoover staring at him with the aghast sort of expression usually reserved for foxes caught in the henhouse. Reiner stared back until he looked away and nodded weakly. Reiner let out an exasperated sigh. “Please, Mr. Hoover, your word. If I am to extend my hospitality I would like to know it will not be thrown back in my face.” And more importantly he needed to know that this potential piece of his puzzle wouldn’t slip through his fingers. If he was reading him right, and Reiner prided himself on his ability to read people, Mr. Hoover wasn’t the type to break his word and run out on him.

“I give you my word,” he said finally.

“Good.” Reiner stood, leaving the tea things for the housekeeper to deal with in the morning. “Follow me and I’ll get you settled.”


	4. The Parlour House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean encounters a handsome strangers working at the Parlour House he frequents.

“Good evening, Mr. Kirstein,” the pleasant, light voice belonged to a handsome woman of middling years in a gorgeous lace dress. “I hope we find you well this fine evening?”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Jean removed his hat and bowed politely to the madam and her girls. “You do indeed. I trust you are all in good health as well?”

“As well as they ever are when they’ve been deprived of your dry wit, sir.” Madam Rico flirted at him with her folding fan. 

Jean chuckled and followed her as she ushered him over to a small table. “I swear to you that I come as often as my business will allow. Every moment without your company is as cold and colourless as the early morning fog.”

The madam laughed, clearly pleased, and waved one of her girls off to get a drink for him. Jean was not the first patron of the evening to arrive at the parlour house but he was a regular and one of the madam’s particular favourites. A position he worked hard to maintain. 

Madam Rico slid onto a stool across the table from Jean and smoothed her skirts. “How are things in town?” The parlour house was located across the river and although it was a large house on a stunning property it was still considered one of the more ‘unsavoury’ areas of town. Despite that slight separation they still managed to acquire any new news or gossip almost as soon as it came to light. 

Jean flattered himself that he was no small part of that although he knew that the staff came into town regularly and were probably the real reason. “Well, ma’am, that rash of sickness is still driving poor Doctor Braun to distraction.” She nodded sympathetically, not new news then, and he continued, “and I hear that Sheriff Jaeger got himself in a spot of trouble at the town dance last night.”

“Oh!” Her fan flared across her face, “Goodness, Sheriff Jaeger? He’s always been such an upstanding young man. Never comes to visit us here of course, but...” Her eyes dropped and she made a small moue of disappointment.

“Only because he’s such a shy creature around the gentler sex, ma’am,” Jean stretched a hand out across the table to reassure her. “I myself have seen him blushing and flustered around many a young lady of no particular charm. I don’t know that he’d be able to utter a single word in your divine presence.”

“Oh, you.” The madam laughed her bell-like tinkle of a laugh then stood as another knock rang out at the door. “You will have to tell me all about his little adventure later on, my darling.”

“I am always at your pleasure, ma’am,” Jean dared to catch and kiss her hand before she swept off and she blushed prettily for him and whispered something at one of the girls she passed. The pretty creature immediately sashayed over to take up the empty stool and engage him in conversation. Jean accepted a drink from another girl and made sure to compliment her on the new ostrich feather that sat so fetchingly in her hat which prompted a round of spotting new accoutrements on each of the girls in his vicinity. He spent a pleasant hour with them, speaking of everything from jewelry to classic literature as the piano man played softly in the background. 

“Hey! You come on back here!” A rough voice slurred and was followed by a female squawk of outrage. 

“Unhand me, sir!” The same girl yelped.

Jean was halfway to his feet when a large form rose up from the corner of the room and strode past his table. 

“Is there a problem here?” a low voice asked.

“Yeah, I was in the middle of coming to an agreement with this here young lady when _you_ barged in,” the man at the table growled as he climbed to his feet.

But the man — a new bouncer, Jean guessed — was taller and broader and simply let his arms hang loose but ready at his sides. “I am going to have to ask you to vacate the premises, sir. Your conduct is upsetting both the ladies and the other patrons.”

“Make me,” the man hissed, his words slurred by alcohol.

There was a brief struggle and before Jean could sort out what was happening the bouncer had the man by the collar and was frog-marching him out of the building. Jean sat back down as the ladies preened their ruffled feathers — both figuratively and literally in some cases — back into place or allowed their male companions to do so for them. Jean’s companion and one other had made pretty excuses and gone to take the assaulted girl into the back to cosset her. Jean didn’t mind. 

“Can I have a moment of your time, sir?” a smooth voice asked.

Jean looked up from his drink and found the bouncer from before standing in front of his table. He gestured to the stool and the man sat down gracefully, crossing one long leg over the other.

“Thank you. You’re Mr. Kirstein if I’m not mistaken? I’m sorry for pressing myself on you without a proper introduction but I wanted to thank you for being ready to go to the aid of the girls earlier.”

“No need.” Jean studied the man. Angular jaw, dark hair cut short and parted down the middle, and deep brown eyes set above a smattering of freckles. Very much to Jean’s taste. His clothing was fine and well-cut but that was no surprise considering where he was working.

“I must disagree,” the man fixed Jean with an earnest look and lowered his voice. “Not many consider the girls here to be worth defending. It was a gallant gesture.”

Jean let out a soft huff of laughter at the man’s choice of words and turned an amused smile on him. “I see you take your duties very seriously, Mr...”

“Oh do excuse me. Bodt. Marco Bodt.” The man coloured slightly and raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s just, you see, the madam is a good woman, Mr. Kirstein. And it’s uncommon to find a man with the wisdom to look past the surface of things.”

_‘Goodness, is he serious?’_ Jean coughed into his hand before answering so he didn’t laugh in Mr. Bodt’s face outright. “Although I find many points to contest in your views I must agree that she is indeed a good woman.”

Marco smiled enthusiastically and seemed about to continue when Jean’s companion from earlier reemerged from the back of the house. Marco immediately surrendered his seat but after bidding Jean a polite farewell leaned in to add, “Lynne is rather taken with you, Mr. Kirstein. I know for a fact that you wouldn’t be offending anyone by paying her attentions.” 

Jean tried to be offended as Mr. Bodt left with a wink. He really did. But the man’s heartfelt tone and cheerful smile left him feeling rather conflicted. He struck up conversation with his companion, the aforementioned Lynne, once again but couldn’t seem to put his heart into it. He made a point of only coming for the entertainment and conversation offered here but as he didn’t abstain from liberally buying drinks (both for himself and his companions) his presence was more than tolerated. He fancied that his conversation was also rather invigorating but since he knew for a fact how well Madam Rico educated her girls he was equally sure they they could get along just fine without his presence.

Eventually, as the house began to fill up, he made his goodbyes and headed to the door. As one of the girls went to collect his coat and hat he gave the room a final glance. He found that Mr. Bodt was watching him from the dark corner where he was stationed. The man gave Jean a small wave and a wide, handsome smile. Jean returned the wave with a bemused expression before turning to don his jacket and depart.


	5. House Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertolt gets dragged into Reiner's world of patients and house calls and small town life.

Bertolt sat slowly on the pretty blue comforter that covered the bed after the doctor had finished his explanations and left. He sank back onto the soft mattress with a low sigh. When the sounds of the other man turning in for the night had faded to silence he covered his face with his hands and let out a long groan. He didn’t understand how the Doctor had managed to see him. Bertolt was always careful to keep a glamour over himself while he was ‘working’. Any human who had seen him should have let their eyes simply slide past as their brain refused to register his presence. He let out another groan and ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. Armin was going to be so disappointed in him. It was probably for the best that he wouldn’t be expected home until daylight broke.

 

 

When Bertolt woke it was still quite early and he prepared himself quickly. _‘Hopefully Armin might have some ideas about fixing this mess...’_ He sighed. _‘Or maybe I can just leave town.’_

After washing his face in the basin set out on the simple dresser (the water so cold that he ran a finger around the inside of the water pitcher to check for remnants of ice) Bertolt stole downstairs. He’d made it as far as the kitchen when a cheerful “Good morning!” stopped him in his tracks.

“Well then you must be the Mr. Hoover that the good Doctor wrote about in his note!” A rather buxom lady with a no-nonsense apron tied about her waist accosted him as he stood frozen in the doorway. 

“Um, y-yes?” he tried, wilting under her sharp gaze.

“Well then I can see I will have a time of it fattening _you_ up.” She pinched the sleeve of his shirt between her forefinger and thumb and hauled him over to the kitchen table. “You sit yourself down there and I’ll put something together right quick.”

Bertolt — helpless in the face of her brisk efficiency — sat down. She talked non-stop about what probably amounted to every drop of town gossip and news from the entire past year. When Doctor Braun finally came down the stairs all hopes of getting to Armin had already been lost in her repeated attempts to try and convince Bertolt to eat a third helping of eggs and bacon. Bertolt let out a tiny sigh and let his tense shoulders slump a little as her focus shifted to scolding the doctor for not getting more sleep (had he not see the shadows under his own eyes in the mirror?). 

The doctor was hustled over to the table and plied with food until he looked positively ill at the mention of another egg. Finally he stood and indicated to Bertolt that they should head out to the sitting room. With a laugh and a pat to the housekeeper’s shoulder (who was not shy about expressing her feelings about grown men who really should be eating more) he extricated them from the now stifling kitchen and lead Bertolt through the sitting room and through a simple wooden door into a small office on the far side.

“She means well,” Doctor Braun remarked with a wry twist to his lips as he closed the door behind them.

“I can see that,” Bertolt said in a small voice.

“Sit, please.” The man indicated a pair of chairs in front of the desk with a wave of one brawny arm.

Bertolt sat. The chair was simple and wooden and a little small but it had a cheerfully bright cushion tied to the seat and despite its otherwise severe appearance Bertolt quickly found a comfortable position and settled. 

The Doctor sat behind the large maple desk and kicked his feet up onto one corner, grabbing a small pile of folded paper from the blotter at the same time. He rifled through it, mumbling to himself as he did so, then set it aside and stared at Bertolt. “So, Mr. Hoover, a belated good morning to you.”

“Good morning.” Bertolt stared at a spot just above Doctor Braun’s right shoulder. 

“Did you sleep well?” Doctor Braun’s voice was low as he watched Bertolt.

He made an effort to clear his throat before he spoke but his voice came out as quiet as ever, “Well enough, thank you.”

“Glad to hear it.” Doctor Braun ran a hand through his short blond hair. “Now, we need to talk about you, I’m afraid, Mr. Hoover. You’ve already made it quite clear that you are not your favourite topic of discussion but I do need to figure out what I’m going to do with you while you’re staying here.”

“I...” Bertolt trailed off and hooked a few of his fingers together in his lap. _‘I need to see Armin...’_

“Did you bring anything with you when you arrived? Did you have it sent to the hotel, perhaps?” The doctor flexed his thick legs and moved his feet back to the floor, leaning over the desk to give Bertolt a concerned look. “You’re not on the run from the law, are you?”

“N-no!” Bertolt squeaked. 

“Alright then.” Doctor Braun continued on about having to begin his rounds soon.

_‘My things are at Ymir’s... Maybe if he could just take me there then Armin could talk me out of this... Why did I_ say _that last night?! She wouldn’t shoot me on sight.’_ He bit back a small sigh. _‘But she wouldn’t hesitate to kill me with her bare hands if anything I do ends up coming back to hurt Krista.’ ___

“Are you listening to me?” Doctor Braun’s face had crinkled up into an amused smile. “Mr. Hoover?”

Bertolt started and sat bolt upright. “Y-yes.”

“So, you’re willing then?” He tilted his head to the side a little. Bertolt gave a reluctant nod and the Doctor’s brilliant smile suffused his face. The expression caused something to flutter in Bertolt’s chest. “Wonderful! We don’t have too much time before today’s Service so I’ll get you to help me carry some things, then, if it’s not too much of a bother.” He stood, his chair skittering back over the wooden floor, and began striding around the room collecting things.

Bertolt cringed a little every time the large man stomped past his chair. _‘What have I gotten myself into...’_

 

 

Bertolt shifted the box of medical supplies he was holding in an effort to see where he was placing his feet on the planked sidewalk.

“Doing alright there, Mr. Hoover?” Doctor Braun’s voice was cheerful as he lead the way down the main street toward the quarter where he’d chased Bertolt last night, each heavy footstep thumping against the wood.

“Yes,” Bertolt said, his voice quiet as he navigated the slightly uneven boards. 

“Our first patient is a friend of mine,” The Doctor said as he stepped down the small slope where the sidewalk descended to meet the dusty road and then turned down a side-street.

“Oh,” Bertolt said as he skittered after the man. His own stride was long but the pace that the Doctor set was swift.

“He was accosted two nights ago at the town dance.”

“Oh.” Bertolt focused on trying not to jostle the small bottles and jars that bounced around noisily in their separate compartments.

“I didn’t see you at the dance.”

“No, I- I don’t like...”

Doctor Braun laughed a deep belly laugh. “Not big on people, hm? I thought as much. You’ll have to come to the next dance, though. The local musicians are surprisingly good.”

“Okay...” Bertolt said, the tightening in his throat almost silencing the word.

“Ah, but my friend. He seems to have gotten on the bad side of some local toughs who were in town for the dance. Got himself beaten up pretty good and hasn’t come around yet.” 

“I-I’m sorry...” 

The Doctor slowed and let Bertolt catch up. The sun beat down on them from a clear sky and the sweatband of Bertolt’s hat was already becoming damp. “He has an adopted brother who’s pretty protective of him and he’s bound to still be quite upset so please, watch your tongue, Mr. Hoover.”

“Okay...” Bertolt mumbled and stared down at the contents of the topmost layer of the box. 

A large hand came out of nowhere to hit him squarely in the back and the Doctor began to guffaw as Bertolt clutched desperately at his burden. “Good Lord, Mr. Hoover, that was a joke. If you were to start running your mouth I’m afraid I might be the one in need of medical attention. Lighten up. Patients need to see calm and cheerful caretakers. Makes them more confident which in turn can help them heal better.” 

Bertolt tried to wrestle the down-turned corners of his mouth into at least a neutral expression then dared to look down and meet those laughing golden eyes. 

The Doctor gave him a reassuring smile. “Better. You look less like I’m dragging you to your death, at least.” 

Bertolt’s eyes snapped back down and he held the box a little closer to his chest.

 

 

The visit was less painful than Bertolt had feared. The young man, Eren Jaegar, was still unconscious so the Doctor simply gave him a quick checkover — under the watchful eye of the man’s brother, a half-oriental who was introduced as Mikasa Ackerman and whose eyes Bertolt thoroughly avoided after one glance — before instructing Bertolt to remove a few of the bottles from his box and give them to the slight man with the flat eyes that spoke of death. 

As they left the small house Doctor Braun smiled apologetically at Bertolt. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to carry that a little further. If we don’t go now we’ll be late to the service.”

“Service?” Bertolt asked dumbly, mind still preoccupied with the complicated instructions the Doctor had given Mr. Ackerman.

“Church service,” Doctor Braun said cheerfully. “I missed last week because of a broken leg that needed setting so missing this week’s is out of the question.”

Bertolt stumbled to a halt. Armin had warned him that in smaller towns it would be harder to avoid services but he had never really considered that he might actually be forced to attend one. The doctor turned and gave him a long look with those piercing golden eyes. “You’re not...” 

Bertolt tensed. 

“Catholic, are you? Mr. Hoover?”

Bertolt let his shoulders relax and managed a small smile of relief. “N-no. Not Catholic.”

“Good.” Doctor Braun relaxed as well and gave him a reassuring smile. “Our church is just a small one but our priest is very open and will welcome anyone from any of the Protestant families.” He began walking again and as Bertolt lengthened his stride to catch up he thought he heard the doctor mutter ‘Unless you’re one of _those_...”

Bertolt wondered what _those_ were. He wondered if what he was counted as one of _those_ or as something worse. More than that though he wondered how he was going to make it through a whole church service without running from the building screaming.


	6. Crossed Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his way home from church Jean encounters a young lady who clearly doesn't know her way about town yet and gives her some advice.

Jean took slow steps own the ever-dusty main street as he made his way back from Sunday service. He’d decided to take the long route that ran past the bridge and the riverside today; even though he’d not seen Mr. Bodt from across the river at the service there was a chance he’d missed him and that their paths might cross if the man was making his own way home. Jean was hoping to get the chance to ask him about how the girls were doing after the disturbance the other night. Unfortunately it seemed that Mr. Bodt had indeed not been there. The road was mostly empty, populated only by small groups of friends and acquaintances exchanging gossip. 

As he was about to turn down one of the side streets on his way home he spotted an unfamiliar but well-dressed young lady making her way slowly toward the bridge. She took her time, meandering along the main street and doing a little window shopping to keep from being noticed, but it was clear from the furtive glances she threw over her shoulder from time to time that she thought she might be doing something less than proper. He watched her until she was only a few buildings shy of the edge of town then sighed deeply and adjusted his path so that it would cross hers. Clearly whoever was supposed to be keeping an eye on her was not doing a very good job.

“Good morning, Miss,” he kept his voice low and as affable as he could through his annoyance.

“Oh!” She had clearly not seen him coming up behind her and hid what he assumed was a blush with a slender gloved hand. “Good morning, sir.”

“I apologize for startling you, Miss,” Jean said, tipping his hat to her. “Jean Kirstein. Town judge.” Maybe if he threw his title around he could turn her back faster and return to his home.

“My name is Armina Arlert. Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir.” She curtsied gracefully. “But if you will excuse me I am on business...”

“To the wrong side of town?” Jean raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going to mince words with you, Miss Arlert. If you are seen crossing that bridge alone, as you no doubt will be seeing as it’s the middle of the day on a Sunday when all the gossips are at large, your reputation is going to be sullied permanently.” He didn’t mention that he himself often entertained thoughts of going to see if he could find Mr. Bodt and engage him in further conversation. Even though he stayed on the proper side of the river during daytime hours he couldn’t seem to push the man from his mind.

“O-oh...” She deflated a little. “Well, you certainly do speak your mind, Mr. Kirstein.”

“To the displeasure of many.” He offered her his arm. “Might I escort you to someplace more suitable for a lady such as yourself?”

“N-no... I really must...”

“I won’t allow it.” Jean said firmly and captured her arm in his. As he began walking in the other direction he kept his voice low, “I would never presume to ask a ladies’ business but if you have someone you need to meet you _must_ request their presence on this side of the river or, if there is no way around it, arrange for a suitable escort and try at a time when you will be less obvious.”

The girl gave him a pointed look. “How, then, is one to get a message to that side of town, Mr. Kirstein? I am afraid I am of very limited acquaintance in this town.”

Jean eyed her as he guided them to the other side of the street so that their words would not be heard by the gaggle of ladies gathered outside the church. “There are ways. For a lady such as yourself... I would speak to the dressmaker’s assistant. Not the dressmaker herself, mind. Her assistant is trustworthy and sees some of the girls from across the river every other Thursday when they come in to order new clothing. Ask her to approach Miss Mina for you. Miss Mina is always content to keep her silence in exchange for a new pair of stockings or fine gloves.”

“Miss Mina...” Miss Arlert murmured under her breath. “Very well. Thank you for your kind attentions and advice Mr. Kirstein. I will trouble you no further.” The girl extracted her hand from his arm and curtsied once again.

“You are most welcome, Miss Arlert. And I pray that you will be a little more careful with your reputation in the future.” Jean touched the brim of his hat again and they parted ways. As he walked briskly back toward the edge of town where his house stood he wondered what sort of business a girl like that could possibly have over the river. She seemed a smart little thing. Too smart to get caught in such an obvious blunder. Jean shook his head to rid himself of his troublesome thoughts. It was not his problem. She was not his problem. There were enough gossips in this town already and he was sure he’d be receiving barbed comments from the town matrons for the next week about paying such obvious attentions to a new girl. A new girl who he’d not seen at the church this morning no less. And besides, he still had some work to finish up pertaining to those three prison escapees who’d been found dead in the forest this morning. Since that idiot sheriff had gotten himself knocked out of commission Jean’s workload had doubled. He frowned and stomped back to his office in a steadily worsening mood.


	7. Conciousness and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren comes to and Armin receives a surprise visitor.

When Eren came to he was lying on a bed and his head felt like it was fit to burst open like an overripe melon. He let out a long groan and tried to sit up. Gentle hands held him down. 

“No, don’t try and get up.” The voice was deep and rough.

“Doctor Braun?” Eren cautiously blinked his eyes open. The large blond man was sitting in a chair at the bedside. Eren looked around slowly and spotted an unfamiliar, tall, and rather distressed man standing just inside the door.

“Sure am,” the large man said as he removed a damp cloth from Eren’s forehead and dipped it in a basin on the dresser at his side. “Glad to see you still recognize me. This is Bertolt Hoover, he’s staying with me for a spell so I’ve drafted him as my assistant.”

The man’s face twisted into a dejected frown but he bobbed his head in agreement. “It’s... nice to meet you sheriff.”

“Likewise,” Eren mumbled then tried to sit up but was forced back down by an outraged doctor Braun as the world spun around violently. He groaned again. “The girl? Reiner, was she okay?”

Doctor Braun looked over at Bertolt who visibly stiffened. “Eren... We looked everywhere after we got you home but couldn’t find her. I couldn’t even find anyone who could describe her without being too obvious.”

“Shit, Reiner, it was the Titan Gang! Three of them! They must have taken her. We have to-” Eren stopped when he saw the confused look Reiner was giving him.

“Eren... those Titans are dead. Their bodies were found several miles outside of town yesterday. It looked like they’d gotten on the wrong side of a grizzly. I saw the bodies myself and I’d swear they’d been there for at least a day already by that point so I doubt they could have spirited your girl off.” Reiner pressed his lips together at the obviously grim memory.

“Yesterday? Before the dance?” Eren’s head was spinning but he was pretty sure it wasn’t from the impact this time.

“No. You’ve been unconscious for two days, Eren.” Reiner wrung out the cloth and placed it back on Eren’s forehead. “We were getting a little worried to be honest.”

Eren let out a small string of profanities. 

Reiner chuckled. “Good to see you’re still yourself.”

The nervous man spoke suddenly. “Doctor Braun did check for missing persons reports but none have come up.”

“She said she was staying with Krista Lenz...” Eren sighed. “Don’t suppose I could impose on you to check that out?”

“Of course,” Reiner got to his feet. “I’ll go wake Mikasa. I sent him away to take a nap on threat of knocking him out if he didn’t.”

“Ha!” Eren winced as the laugh shook his skull. “I would honestly like to see you try.”

Reiner smirked. “He almost made an issue of it but Mr. Hoover here managed to look imposing enough to change his mind.” Reiner grabbed his hat from the dresser but hesitated at the door and turned to point a warning finger at Eren. “I hear you’ve so much as sat up on your own before I get back and I’ll set Mikasa on the trail of your mystery girl.”

“I hear you,” Eren said flatly. “I’ll be good. So long as you check out the Miss Lenz angle for me and don’t breathe a word of it to Mikasa.”

“Will do!” Reiner called as he headed out with the lanky Mr. Hoover following closely at his heels. 

Eren closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain in his head until footsteps thundered up the stairs and a hoarse voice called his name.

“Mikasa.” Eren opened his eyes to find the skinny man in his red scarf and button down under the oversized brown jacket he always wore leaning over the bed. 

“Eren...” He breathed and sat down heavily on the chair so recently vacated by Reiner. “Oh...” His usually hard brown eyes softened and filled with tears as he wrapped his delicate but strong fingers around Eren’s hand.

“Oh Mikasa,” Eren couldn’t decide whether to laugh or frown. “What have I told you about men and crying.”

He sniffed and let out a distinctly high-pitched sob, bending forward and pressing Eren’s hand to his warm forehead as long black hair fell to obscure his face. “That we don’t.” He sniffled. “Even though you cry all the time.”

“You didn’t have to add that last bit,” Eren grumbled but smiled down at him fondly. “Sorry I worried you. Again.”

With the way his shoulders stiffened it was probably a blessing that his face was obscured from Eren’s view. Fingers tightened painfully around his hand and angry, helpless sobs racked the slight frame in the chair. 

Eren sighed. “Mikasa, I’m sorry. I honestly wasn’t expecting them to be anywhere near town. They were supposed to be locked away in the jail over in Jinae for Chrissake.”

The pressure on his hand tightened until Eren had to start regulating his breathing to deal with it. “If they weren’t already dead...” Mikasa’s voice was filled with pure poison and Eren briefly wondered if the grizzly might have been a more merciful death, all things considered.

 

 

“Hey, Armin.”

Armin was pacing back and forth chewing on the end of his thumb as his skirts flew out around his ankles. He hadn’t wanted to compromise his cover like that but those men had meant business. Had the sheriff realized that the only one who could have knocked him out was Armin? Would it even cross his mind? Girls didn’t usually raise their hands to violence but-

“ _Armin_.” 

He whipped around and stomped back across the sitting room, heels loud on the wooden floor even through the soft carpet that covered it. Maybe he could explain it away as a fourth man. But no, the sheriff had recognized those men... He needed to talk to someone! But he also needed to not ruin his reputation and that meant waiting until at least Thursday since Bertolt had gone and disapp-

“Armin! Jesus Christ!”

He flinched then stopped and looked squarely at the darker-skinned, freckled girl reclining on the sofa in a leather vest and trousers. “What is it, Ymir?”

Her sharp face always had a predatory look to it but right now it was tinged with a weary exhaustion. “You need to _sit down_.”

“No.” Armin began his pacing again.

“You’re going to wear out the trim on your underskirt,” a gentle voice warned as the petite blonde it belonged to edged around the room with a tea tray clutched in her tiny hands.

“If you make Christa spill the tea you are going to regret it.” Ymir said dryly.

Armin sighed and perched on one of the overstuffed chairs opposite the sofa. “Fine.”

“Anyways, if you hit him hard enough, he might not remember any of it and you can just start fresh.” Ymir’s wide grin was a little too toothy to be comforting.

“Ymir...” Christa set the tray on the delicate little table between them and began pouring. “The sheriff is a nice man. You mustn’t hope that he was hurt so badly. Plus I am sure that Armin would never have hit him so hard.”

Armin winced. He’d hit the man with a lot of force.

Ymir picked up her cup, leaving the saucer on the tray, and took a noisy sip before she spoke again, “Why are you after that chump again?”

“Because short of Christa here he’s got the most wholesome aura in the entire town.” Armin’s voice was strained as he accepted a cup and saucer from Christa. “Thank you.”

“Why thank you, Armin.” Christa beamed at him as Ymir snaked a possessive arm around the small woman’s waist.

“And...? There are easier targets in town than that justice-obsessed freak of nature. Targets you wouldn’t have to dress in drag to catch.”

Armin shot her a poisonous look. “It’s a simple balance of energy output versus input. And take a close look at yourself before you speak, Ymir.”

Ymir snorted. “You’re just jealous because my drag is actually practical.”

“And yet you still won’t take a message across the river for me. _Or_ escort me.”

“Oh, that just wouldn’t do.” Christa shook her head sadly. “Not with you pretending to be an unmarried girl and all.”

Armin’s took a slow sip of tea to prevent himself from screaming. “How do you deal with this _every day_?” he asked Christa shortly.

Christa blinked at him in surprise. “We just... do. It’s not like we have much of a choice. Ymir can have her freedom but she has to continue pretending to be a man or she will lose it. I can’t because I’ve grown up here and everyone knows me. The only other option is to run a business like Madam Rico but as you can see that comes with its own challenges and restrictions.”

“Plus none of those dirty men are coming anywhere near my Christa,” Ymir growled and the small blonde let out a surprised giggle as she was yanked into Ymir’s lap.

Armin sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Alright then. I need to find out if he’s suspicious. You’ve lived here for a while and know the town residents better than I do. Do you have any ideas?”

“Well...” Christa was peering out the front window. “It looks like Doctor Braun is coming to pay us a visit. I’m sure he’s been tending to the Sheriff so you could ask him.”

“ _What?_ ” Armin sprang up and moved with a soft rustle of petticoats to the side of the window so he could look through the thin curtains where they were pulled back by pretty lace ties.

“She makes a valid point,” Ymir yawned. “He’s gonna be a goldmine. Wonder why he’s coming to visit though. Haven’t talked to him in weeks.”

Christa rose and made her way to the door with graceful, tiny steps. “Ymir, could you take the tea tray back to the kitchen and put the kettle on?”

“Sure thing, angel.” Ymir rose and lifted the tray in one hand, making its contents rattle as she strode into the back.

“Can we trust him?” Armin hissed at Christa, wavering between returning to the sofa and following Ymir into the back. He still had some time to decide. The walk to the house was long, as Krista’s family had once been rather well-to-do. One of her grandfathers had, being rather eccentric, fixed on the bright idea of building a mansion on the outskirts of town. It had since burned to the ground, replaced by Ymir and Krista’s smaller, more practical house. Only a few remnants of the grand building’s foundations could still be seen out in the midst of the vast gardens they now maintained.

“Hm...” Krista rested a hand on the curtains as she watched the guest approach. “I would say so, within reason, but it seems he has some company today.”

Armin glanced out again and saw a gangly figure close on the Doctor’s heels. His narrow shoulders slumped and he sighed. “No. That’s Bertolt.”

“Oh!” Krista’s eyes lit with interest. “Is that him behind the good Doctor? I’d been wondering what had happened to him. We will have to ask how he ended up in the Doctor’s company.”

“Indeed.” Armin ran a hand through his hair, hesitating halfway through as he remembered too late that the gesture would ruin the careful curls Christa had forced his blond locks into with her hot iron.

“Oh, _Armin._ ” Christa pressed her lips together in a little moue. “How many times must I tell you to stop touching your hair without the assistance of a mirror?”

“Sorry...” Armin stood still and let her flit around him to fix the damage he’d done. By the time she was done the Doctor and Bertolt were only steps away from the front porch.

“There.” Christa patted a last stay strand into place and stepped back. “Perfect. Now go sit down and keep your hands _tucked demurely in your lap_.”

Armin sighed but did as he was told. As he sat Ymir came back out with a freshly laden tea tray that she set on the small table. “You gonna stay out here or hide, Armin?”

“Stay. Bertl’s with him.”

“ _What?_ ” Ymir’s hands fumbled with the cup she’d been reaching for and Armin was grateful that she’d already released the tray.


	8. Not-so-chance Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco learns something about one of the Parlour Houses' patrons from the girls.

Marco was lounging in the common room with a couple of the girls before they opened. All the cleaning had been done, the tables arranged, the glasses polished, and the girls were powdered and painted. Marco was dressed in his second-best suit with a pin-striped vest and matching brown bow-tie that complemented his eyes. Hannah sat a few glasses on the table and pushed one across the table at him. He met her eyes with a smile, “What’s this for?”

“You’re looking a little flushed, darling,” she said in her rich voice, carefully arranging her skirts as she sat. “It’s hot this week. Best to nip dehydration in the bud.”

“Thank you.” He picked up the glass, cool moisture already beading on the smooth surface, and took a sip.

“Haven’t you noticed, Hannah?” Mina, wearing a very low-cut red velvet dress one of the with her dark tresses pinned up under a matching fascinator, said with a laugh. “Marco’s been makin’ eyes at one of our gentlemen callers.”

Marco choked on his drink.

“Oh sweetie, you don't need to pretend around us. We've seen it all and we can keep a secret.” Mina winked at him. “Why do you think we feel so comfortable around you?”

“I thought it was because you trusted me!” Marco protested. 

“We do, luv.” Hannah smiled at him fondly. “You're a sweetheart. But more than that you seem to have more of an interest in our brains than in the contents of our bodices.”

“Which, let me tell you, is quite the treat.” A platinum blonde in a blue dress cackled. There was a chorus of giggles and murmured ascents.

“You know, Hitch, come to think of it, _that_ one doesn’t either.” Mina grinned at the other ladies seated around the table. 

“Ah, so he doesn’t.” Hannah smiled her best smile. “Poor girl's gonna be heartbroken.”

“You go get 'em, Marco!” Mina smacked him on the shoulder with her fan.

Marco, who'd been sitting there with his mouth open, snapped it closed and smiled ruefully at the girls. “I'm afraid that as usual you brilliant creatures have completely lost me. And I really must be going to check that Daz hasn't drunk himself under Nac's counter in the kitchen again.” He planted his hands on the lace tablecloth and rose to his feet. As he made his way into the back there were a few quick whispers followed by a storm of giggles. He rubbed a finger under his nose, has he really been that obvious? Maybe the girls were just that sharp. He sighed and went to find Nac.

 

 

By the time he had located Daz — who had indeed been in the process of abusing his free libations and drinking himself under the cook's counter in the back — and got the man presentable enough that he was fit to be seen in public the parlour house was already open for business. He pushed the still grumbling man out and aimed him at the piano before taking up his usual seat in the darkened corner where he could unobtrusively watch the comings and goings of the place. As the first uncertain tinkling of the piano filled the room the door cracked open and the slim form of the town barrister strode in. Marco watched him make his way to his usual table, exchanging soft greetings with the girls. Lynne immediately peeled herself away from the piano where several of the girls had gathered to sing along and met him halfway. There was hardly anyone else in the place so Marco let his eyes linger on the man's square shoulders and his slim waist as he stood to offer madam Rico a graceful bow. When Lynne sashayed back in, drinks in hand, Mr. Kirstein accepted his politely and immediately began discussing something with her, face earnest and pale brown eyes fixed on her face.

Marco looked away as a group of young men wandered in, chattering together in that nervous way first-timers usually had. Their chins were pale, the freshly shaved areas contrasting sharply with their ruddy cheeks and Marco immediately pegged them for prospectors who were probably in town after a big break. One, a short young fellow with his hair shaved almost to nothing was laughing with a slight person just a little taller than he was who wore baggy men’s clothing and had their hair hidden under a woollen cap. The one in the cap raised their head to look directly at Marco and winked one large brown eye at him. Marco grinned back at her for just a moment. He hadn’t realized Sasha was due to be back in town for some time yet. They took a table opposite his corner and Marco glanced around again. Mr. Kirstein had a book in his hand and was pointing at an open page while Lynne nodded avidly along with whatever he was saying. Marco kept half an eye on them as he watched the room, mostly peaceful now with the music going and Hannah singing along as a few more patrons wandered in. The prospectors were on their second round and two of them couldn't seem to pry their gazes from the bosoms of the girls serving them. Actually neither could the old man in the corner who was so fond of the way the bustles on the girl's dresses moved as they walked. Marco’s eyes flicked back to Mr. Kirstein, whose own amber gaze was still fixed to Lynne's face. And stuck there. Not once did Mr. Kirstein's gaze waver downward. 

There was a bit of a kerfuffle by the piano and Marco narrowed his eyes and resolved to ask the girls about it the next chance he got. He rose to his feet to deal with a drunkard who was clearly trying to finish up a long afternoon at the saloon with some handsy games with the girls. “Hey, Woerman, hands off!”

 

 

Mr. Kirstein left while Marco was busy in the back with Daz, who’d taken a break and immediately headed for his complimentary spirits. The Madam was going to have to threaten him with docking his pay if he overindulged too much again. After the girls had helped close down Hannah sashayed past Marco and playfully tapped him with her fan, “Figure it out yet, sweetheart?”

“Mr. Kirstein.”

“Give the man a prize!” she crooned, wrapping one ivory-pale arm around his shoulders. “Never once has that man looked down my bodice. Unnatural I tell you.”

Marco laughed. “Like me?”

“Just like you, sweetheart.” She smirked. “Only a little more pure. Like my Franz.”

Marco widened his eyes and pressed his hand to his chest. “Madam, you wrong me!” 

She snorted and let him go. “I’ve seen the way you wade into those fights, Marco Bodt, and don’t you go telling _me_ you’re the kind of good Christian boy who abhors bloodshed.

Marco looked pointedly away and ran a hand through his hair.

“Thought so.” She smiled at him thoughtfully. “But, like I said, your secret is safe with us.”

Marco shook his head, “Alright, Hannah. But I don’t know why you’re pushing this on me so strongly.”

She gave him a flat look. “Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.”

Marco watched, bemused, as she turned and walked away, the click of her heels on the wooden floor muted by the thick carpets laid out over it. He shook himself and returned to putting out the delicate glass lamps that were placed at strategic points along the walls to showcase the girls and their assets.

 

 

The next morning Marco decided a trip into town was in order. He stopped at the general store to put in a request for a new pair of boots, ducked his head into the back of the dressmakers to pick up some things the girls had asked him to get, then strolled slowly around town with the package under his arm, taking in the comings and goings. As he took his last turn before heading back over the river he spotted Mr. Kirstein exiting a severe-looking building. Marco’s steps slowed as he watched the man call something back into the dark interior before letting the door swing closed behind him and settling the hat he held firmly onto his head. 

As the man set off down the boardwalk Marco followed at a distance, making sure to dally at storefronts and exchange pleasantries with a few of the prospectors he knew who were also out doing business on this fine morning. After following the main street for a few blocks Mr. Kirstein headed down a side street. Marco hesitated for a moment before following him. The man made his way to a small house and walked up the steps confidently. He rapped at the door with his knuckles and waited until it was opened by a slim man with raven-black hair and a bright red scarf around his neck despite the heat of the day. Mr. Kirstein spoke with him briefly before being invited into the house. 

Marco sauntered past the building, straining his ears to see if he could hear anything. When angry words erupted from one of the second-story windows he paused to listen.

“Reckless idiot!” Mr. Kirstein’s voice was strained.

“-caught me by surprise.” Came an annoyed grumble that Marco couldn’t quite place. “Bastards.”

“Supposed to be in jail,” Mr. Kirstein snapped back then subsided to a lower tone for a moment until Marco managed to pick out the words, “-should have called for back-up!”

“No time to-” The other man’s voice. “-tried to send her.”

After that the words faded into amiable chatter. Marco wandered on down the street. He kept an eye out for Mr. Kirstein but by the time he had reached the end of the road and wandered back the man had still not reemerged. Instead of waiting and perhaps catching the interest of the local gossips — no doubt lounging in their front parlour windows at this hour of the day — Marco decided to return to town. He tucked the parcel for the girls more firmly under his arm as he headed back toward the main street. What was he evening doing following Mr. Kirstein around? He had his place in town and it was comfortable. More than enough violence and vice floated around on the other side of the river to keep him content and healthy. He was perfectly-

“Mr. Bodt! What an unlikely place to meet.” 

Marco turned to find Mr. Kirstein approaching him, coat draped over his arm and sweat beading on his brow as he hurried to where Marco stood, frozen mid-thought.

“Good day, Mr. Kirstein,” Marco managed, momentarily unable to think of what to do with himself. Had he even had a plan for talking to the man before? Faced with those honey brown irises and the way the man was giving him a slight, bemused frown Marco couldn’t seem to recall one.

The man seemed to remember himself and blushed slightly as he turned a faint frown at the ground. “I’m sorry to bother you. I was just thinking that it has been a few days since we last had an opportunity to speak...”

Something in Marco’s chest fluttered. “So it has. I am afraid that I am not normally permitted to interact too closely with patrons during working hours, you see...”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Kirstein adjusted the way his coat hung over his arm. “That would be unseemly I suppose.”

“So it would.” Marco gestured toward the main street ahead of them. “Might I accompany you back to town? We can speak along the way.”

“O-of course,” Mr. Kirstein fell into step with Marco who had shortened his stride to accommodate Mr. Kirstein.

They walked in silence for a few moments, Marco sneaking surreptitious glances at the man beside him as they went. Mr. Kirstein kept his eyes fixed on the ruts in the road ahead. “Did you perhaps want to discuss something in particular with me, Mr. Kirstein?”

“Oh, yes, I was...” He trailed off, jerking his head around to look at Marco then glancing away again when he found his amber stare met by Marco’s wide, chocolate eyes. “Um, that is...”

Marco pushed the strange feeling growing in his chest aside and focused on the man in front of him instead. “Mr. Kirstein?”

“Yes?” Mr. Kirstein was fidgeting with his coat again and nearly scowling.

“The madam keeps a rather well appointed dining room for special occasions and staff use. I don’t suppose you might be willing to join me for dinner this Thursday?” Even as the words left Marco's lips he was chastising himself silently, ‘Idiot. How is this going to help your situation?’

“Oh!” Mr. Kirstein’s lips curled into a small, surprised smile, frown fading for a moment. “Well, yes, I am free.”

“At seven, perhaps?” Marco couldn’t seem to stop himself. It was as if the logical side of his brain that had been functioning so well when he wasn’t looking at Mr. Kirstein had all of a sudden run out of oil and ground to a halt.

“I might be a few minutes late if this week continues on the way it’s begun but I should be able to make that...” Mr. Kirstein’s voice trailed off as they approached the boardwalk that lined the sides of the main street.

“That’s perfectly fine.” Marco smiled and, after checking that they were unobserved, lightly touched the man’s arm. “I look forward to hearing your question.”

“Oh, um, yes...” Mr. Kirstein stopped and let Marco go on ahead. “On Thursday then.”

Marco smiled a farewell then stepped up onto the boards. They creaked softly under his weight as he began to make his way back toward the bridge. Well. Shoot. It seemed that he had a dinner engagement.


	9. Calling on 'Strangers'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertolt and Reiner visit Armin at Krista and Ymir's to find out if he knows anything more about what happened to Eren.

Bertolt held back a shiver and tried to hide behind his teacup as the dark-haired angel stared him down. Her eyes were chestnut-colour but he could see the gold that flickered in each of her irises as brightly as if they’d been painted on with liquid sunshine. He’d never been comfortable around her but Armin had insisted that the safest place for them to stay would be with this strange couple. _‘Who I’m not even supposed to know,’_ he reminded himself. As they’d entered he’d shot a panicked look and cut a hand across the front of his neck in a gesture he hoped translated as ‘no please don’t’ when Armin and Krista had begun to smile a greeting at him. It had worked, somehow, and they’d pretended not to know him.

“-I expect he’ll make a full recovery in a day or two,” Doctor Braun’s sonorous voice was relaxed as he spoke with the two delicate blondes creatures sitting across from him. Krista was the perfect hostess, displaying unwavering grace and confidence as she’d introduced her cousin Armina to them but ‘Armina’ — as soon as the Doctor had been distracted — had shot Bertolt a look that was at once reassuring and terrifying. Bertolt was not looking forward to the next time they spoke alone. The Doctor took a sip from a teacup that looked minuscule in his large hands. “No hemorrhaging or loss of memory which were two of my more pressing concerns.”

“I’m very glad to hear it,” Armin murmured in his softest voice.

“He was quite concerned for you,” Doctor Braun gave Armin what Bertolt was beginning to recognize as his best bedside smile. “And when we couldn’t find you or anyone who knew you, especially after the death of those men, we became quite worried as well, Miss Arlert.”

“I apologize for any trouble I’ve caused,” Armin lowered his eyes to look at the teacup cradled in his hands. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone, I was just so frightened and...” The cup began to clatter softly as Armin’s hands shook and he tilted his head forward just enough that his hair fell over his face.

“Oh, Armina!” Krista whisked the cup away then took his hands in hers to steady them. She gave Doctor Braun a severe look. “She has had quite the shock, as you can see.” Krista guided Armin’s head down to her shoulder. His own slender shoulders were shaking in a near-perfect imitation of silent sobs under the lace of his gown as he turned into Krista and Bertolt saw a flash of annoyance pass over Ymir’s face then disappear just as quickly.

“Hmm,” Doctor Braun took a last sip of tea then set the teacup and saucer back on the tray. “Does she react like this every time you question her?” Krista solemnly affirmed that she did indeed. The young lady in question would become nearly inconsolable. Doctor Braun thought for a long minute, bringing his hands together and steepling his fingers. “I am sorry, Miss Arlert,” the doctor’s voice did sound sincere. “But as our dear sheriff is unable to resume his duty for a few more days I have taken it upon myself to gather information for him. Do you remember anything of what happened? At all? A face, a name, even the slightest detail could be of use.”

“Th-” Armin cleared his throat with a tiny cough. “There were three men. And the sheriff told me to run for help... But then...” He let the words trail off and sniffled, a soft, pathetic sort of noise.

“She ran into us outside the dance,” Ymir cut in. “We were ready to leave and were asking the people standing outside if they’d seen her. When she came up in a panic I grabbed a few other men and Krista took charge of her while we followed her directions to where she’d left Eren. You know the rest already. The sheriff was knocked out cold and the men had disappeared. _Cowards_ ,” she said the last word with a sneer that would have made any demon proud.

“I see...” The doctor sounded disappointed and Bertolt saw his brows knit together. “Well, thank you.”

“Um...” Bertolt had made the noise before realizing it and stiffened as four pairs of eyes zeroed in on him.

“Mr. Hoover,” Reiner smiled gently at him as he spoke, “Did you have something to add? You were in town then too, weren’t you?”

“I-I was...” Bertolt swallowed. “But I didn’t see it. I was just thinking... Perhaps...”

“Yes?” Reiner’s kind eyes waited patiently and Bertolt focused on them, ignoring the suspicious gazes of the others.

“Perhaps if the lady could meet Mr. Jaeger again she might remember a little more...?” Bertolt let his gaze drop to Doctor Braun’s shoulder.

“That is an excellent idea, Mr. Hoover.” The doctor beamed at him for a minute before turning his smile back on the ladies and Bertolt had to lower his head further to hide his suddenly flushed cheeks. “What do you say, Miss Arlert? Do you think your nerves are up to a visit? It might help if you see just how well Eren is doing with your own eyes.”

Armin gave a hesitant nod and Bertolt was impressed to see actual tears on the man’s cheeks. His acting had always been excellent but this was a new level.

“Wonderful,” Doctor Braun’s shoulders relaxed. “When are you free? I would be happy to escort you there myself.”

“I- I’m free now...” He murmured, accepting Krista’s handkerchief to blot his tears.

“Perfect.” Doctor Braun got to his feet and Bertolt followed his example. “Miss Lenz, Ymir, would you care to accompany us?”

“Miss Arlert?” Krista looked at Armin but the man shook his head and stood. 

“I wouldn’t want to be more of a burden than I already am.” He smoothed pale, nervous hands down over his skirt. “The doctor is a trustworthy man, is he not?”

“Absolutely.” Krista reassured Armin with a smile. “But I have some errands in town. Perhaps we could walk with you to main street?”

“I would appreciate that...” Armin blushed prettily and Bertolt caught Ymir rolling her eyes. 

The angel saw his expression and frowned at him, mouthing the words, _‘Overkill much?’_

“It’s decided then,” Doctor Braun declared. “As we descended on you without warning I’m sure you ladies have some preparations to make. Mr. Hoover and I will wait outside so as to not be in your way. Please don’t rush on our account.” The ladies assented to this plan and Bertolt found himself standing on the shady porch beside the doctor as the door closed behind them. The doctor turned toward him, a thoughtful look on his face, and Bertolt flinched.

 

 

Reiner regarded the tall man standing beside him for a long minute. “Well. I’m guessing from the lack of reaction that you were telling me the truth about Ymir not being your cousin. Thank you.”

Bertolt wrung his hands and looked away.

Reiner smiled gently, Mr. Hoover was always so hesitant about everything. “You know, you’ve been a great help these past days. You are more than welcome to stay on with me for longer if you wish.”

Mr. Hoover’s green eyes flicked up to meet his and then away again. “R-really? Thank you... I...”

“Yes, really. But enough with the formalities. I want you to call me Reiner.” He watched Bertolt’s hands still as the man absorbed the meaning of his words.

“Thank you,” he said again and gave Reiner a small smile that sent warmth spreading out through his chest. “You can call me Bertolt... if you want.”

Reiner nodded once. “Thank you, Bertolt. And honestly, I could use the help with the recent outbreak of this new, strange ailment.”

“O-of course...” Bertolt ducked his head again, dark hair falling over his bright green eyes. “It’s the least I can do.”

Reiner watched him for a long moment but before he could pick up the threads of their conversation again the door opened and the ladies and Ymir poured out onto the porch as well. As they set off Miss Lenz immediately began a bright story about something that had happened the other day. Reiner offered Miss Arlert his arm and resolved to press the matter with Bertolt again later. He just couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion that the man had _something_ to do with his mystery cases.


	10. Visitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren gets a visitor.

A sound woke Eren from a light doze. He was already sitting straight up in his bed before he recognized it as a simple knock at his door.

“Eren?” Mikasa’s lowered voice came through the wood. “Are you up? You have more visitors.”

“I’m awake, thank you Mikasa,” he called back. He hesitated for a moment then added, “It had better not be Jean again!” The door creaked open and he watched as Mikasa moved back so Doctor Braun could step in, grinning, followed once again by that lanky man and- “Miss Arlert!”

Her hands flew to her face as she stepped inside. She was wearing a modest cream coloured dress covered in fine lace with a wide red ribbon tied at the waist that accentuated her slim figure beautifully. A delicate straw hat, decorated with a pair of small glass cherries and silk flowers the exact shade of the ribbon on the dress, hid her blond hair except for a few curls artfully arranged around her face. Eren felt his throat go dry and pulled his comforter higher to try and conceal the pair of old, striped pajamas he was wearing.

“We’re definitely not Jean.” Reiner pulled a chair over to the bedside. “Here you are, Miss Arlert.” She sank into it gracefully, wide blue eyes still taking Eren in. 

“You- you’re alright?” Eren managed.

“I am. And I’m very pleased that you’ve made such a quick recovery, Mr. Jaeger...” Miss Arlert demurely lowered her hands and her gaze to her lap.

Reiner took a look between the two of them and cleared his throat. “Well. I’m going to go back downstairs with Mr. Hoover. Miss Arlert wanted to see for herself that you were fine and perhaps after you two have caught up with each other she might shed some more light on the town dance affair for you, Eren.” He rested a gentle hand on Miss Arlert’s shoulder. “Just call if you need us for any reason.”

“Of course...” She murmured. They waited in silence as Reiner and Mr. Hoover left the room and went downstairs. Eren nodded to Mikasa who very deliberately left the door wide open, shooting the unknown girl one last suspicious look before he turned to follow the other men toward the stairs at the end of the hall.

“Miss Arlert, I need to apologize...” Eren began just at the same moment as she opened her mouth and let out a rush of words, “I am so sorry about what happened that evening, Mr. Jaeger...”

They both stopped and after a moment of silence during which they both just stared at each other Eren chuckled. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who attracted the danger.”

Miss Arlert smiled at him weakly and relaxed her perfect posture a little. “I was the one who didn’t listen to your orders.”

Eren shrugged, taking a moment to appreciate how the movement no longer hurt him. “It wouldn’t have made much of a difference. I just wish I knew what had happened to those monsters...”

Miss Arlert frowned, a pretty gesture that caused only the tiniest of lines to form between her drawn brows. “I wish I could tell you. I’m afraid all I did was run back to my cousin in a panic. I am so sorry...”

Eren waved his hand as if to brush away any worries. “No!” his voice sounded loud and shrill in his own ears and he coughed to clear his throat. “No, I’d really be very pleased if you would lay the blame at my feet where it belongs and not try to take any of it onto your lovely shoulders-” He stopped, flustered, as a blush crept up his neck. “Or, rather, I just meant...”

Miss Arlert smiled at him so sweetly he thought he might just melt. “You are too kind, sir.”

Eren just stared down at his patchwork comforter, mortified with his own tongue. “I’m so sorry, Miss Arlert. I am afraid that I am not very skilled when it comes to the art of speaking with the gentler sex.”

She laughed, a low, tinkling noise that only caused him to blush more deeply. “Mr Jaeger. You are very sweet. And I would be pleased if you would refer to me in private by my Christ-,” the word seemed to catch in her throat and she gave a tiny cough before continuing, “Pardon me, by my given name, Armina.”

“Oh, I haven’t offered you any refreshment!” Eren blurted before he had caught the full meaning of her words. His heart stuttered in his chest and he continued more hesitantly. “Um, would... would you like some tea or another beverage... Armina? I can call Mikasa...”

“No, I am fine, but thank you, Mr. Jaeger” her voice carried a hint of gentle laughter.

“Please call me Eren.” He looked into her blue eyes and felt like he was drowning. “That is... if it pleases you to.”

“It pleases me very much,” Armina smiled at him again. “Thank you, Eren.”

They spent a few moments in quiet again before Eren, still going over the events of the dance, mused softly. “There was one other strange thing that’s been bothering me.” Eren frowned a little and picked at the comforter. “I could have sworn the blow came from behind me but I could still see all three of them standing in front of me clear as day. You didn’t see anyone else when you ran, did you, Armina...?”

She shook her head then paused and pressed a finger against her lips. “Well... I might have seen something... But I don’t know if it was really a person or just a shadow that I misconstrued in my panic...”

Eren watched her, hoping that allowing her some time to think might tease something else free.

Finally she sighed. “I’m very sorry, Eren, but I honestly cannot tell you what it was that I saw.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” he gave her a reassuring smile. “Thank you for trying.” She shifted in her seat, one delicate hand rising to adjust the lace that adorned her delicate shoulders, and Eren racked his brain for another topic of conversation as he forced his gaze back to her face. “Will you be in town long... Armina?” A little jolt of excited nerves shot through him each time he spoke her Christian name.

“Oh!” she exclaimed softly, raising her eyes to meet his for just a moment. “I do believe so. I have taken rather a liking to it so far.”

Eren smiled at her. “I’m very glad to hear that. When I’m proclaimed fit for duty again I don’t suppose you might like to take a stroll around the town together? I mean, I understand if you have other plans, but-”

Armina cut him off, “I would be delighted to.” She gave him a soft smile as she rose to her feet. “But I’m afraid I don’t want to keep you when you’re unwell...”

“No!” Eren silently cursed himself for speaking too loudly again. “No, please, keep me as long as you want.”

Armina giggled, one gloved hand rising to cover her mouth as her eyes sparkled at him. “I might take you up on that offer, Eren. But I really must go. I don’t want to keep the good doctor waiting. She took a step closer and briefly lay her hand over his. “I hope to see you back in full health soon. And I look forward to our walk.”

“O-of course,” Eren answered her as she drew back and heat rushed into his cheeks again. “Thank you. It will be my pleasure, Armina.”

“Farewell for now, Eren,” she smiled again as she turned to leave the room.

“Farewell,” Eren said, voice soft. As soon as she and her graceful swaying hips were out of sight he brought the back of his hand up and pressed it against his too-warm cheek. He held it there until Mikasa trotted up the stairs, no doubt eager to interrogate him about the stranger.


	11. A Dinner Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco have their dinner date.

Jean stood in front of the small mirror that hung on the wall of his near perfectly organized office. He ran a hand over his slicked back blond hair before settling his felt hat carefully over top it. His hands slid down the front of his vest and halfway through tugging it straight for the third time he let out a long sigh. _‘Enough time wasted.’_ He turned abruptly, grabbing his wallet from the desk and sliding it into his jacket pocket. At this rate he wasn’t going to make it before the sun set. He pulled his jacket on and made sure to lock the office carefully behind himself before he strode off down the street.

The town was pretty quiet until he crossed the bridge. On the wrong side of the river men wandered in and out of the saloon and dallied around on the boardwalks, chatting or sneaking sips of liquor from pocket flasks. There was a small gathering outside the dance hall where a few of the girls were taking some air and speaking with the men under the watchful eye of the large fellow who doubled as the establishment’s hired hand and bouncer. Jean walked quickly, but not so quickly as to attract unwanted attention, past the bustle and up the well-appointed street that led to Madam Rico’s establishment. It was an old manor house, set back behind a well-tended stretch of garden that buffered it from even the quiet road it sat on. Jean walked up to the front and let himself in. Instead of the usual lad in the entryway waiting to take his coat and usher him inside he found Marco lounging in the corner. He stopped, a little thrown by the unexpectedly quick meeting.

“Welcome.” Marco’s smiled was sunny and Jean felt his heart speed up. “I’m glad you made it, Mr. Kirstein.”

“Thank you again for the invitation,” Jean replied, slipping out of his jacket and passing both it and his hat over when Marco held out an arm for them. “I’m sorry I’m late. I apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused you.”

“Not at all,” Marco said, tone relaxed as he slipped into a side room to deposit Jean’s things. When he reemerged he was smiling again. “Follow me.”

Marco escorted Jean through the empty parlour and down a dimly lit hallway to a plain but well-made door. Jean couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out of place. He’d never been in Madam Rico’s house when it wasn’t full of chatter and music. When Marco held the door to the dining room open for him he forgot about all of that. The room wasn’t large but there was enough space for the gleaming mahogany table and matching chair set and the delicate little tables lining the walls held elegant vases and graceful statues. The floor was covered in plush oriental carpets and the panelled walls were hung with pretty pastorals and still lifes of flowers and fruits, probably done by some of the girls themselves. The table was already set with fine linens and china that looked as if it had been imported from Europe. Jean, a simple man at heart who had honestly believed up until this moment that he kept a well-appointed house, was a little overwhelmed by the excess of such luxury.

“Please, make yourself at home.” Marco was watching him again with his warm, coffee-coloured gaze.

“Oh, yes, thank you...” Jean made his way to the table.

Marco followed a few paces behind. “I hope you’re hungry. The cook owed me a few favours and I’ve called them all in for this.” 

Jean turned his head to quirk a smile at him. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Bodt. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn this kind of special treatment from you but I do appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing,” Marco said, waving as if to dismiss any concerns Jean had. “I want a chance to get to know you better and I can’t think of a better way than sharing a meal.”

_‘Or more intimate,’_ A rush of heat filled Jean’s chest and he resisted the urge to shake himself as he shoved the feelings away and sank into the chair Marco indicated was his. _‘You can do this, Jean. Just friends._

After pouring a glass of wine for each of them Marco joined him, sitting across the table. “I do hope that your afternoon’s work wasn’t too frustrating, Mr. Kirstein?”

“Surprisingly it was fairly tolerable.” Jean wrapped his fingers around the thin stem of the glass and lifted it. “But here’s to a relaxing dinner with good company to wash away the day’s less pleasant memories.”

Marco lifted his own glass. “Indeed. I hope I can provide you with with at least a little of each of those things this evening.”

Jean felt a small smile tug at his lips and hid it by taking a sip of his wine. He let the liquid roll around his mouth before swallowing — it was a surprisingly fine vintage — before he replied, “I can’t imagine your company ever proving to be a disappointment.” He sighed silently as he listened to the words pour out from his lips. Somehow that hadn’t sounded quite so forward in his head. _‘If you keep being so transparent he is going to quickly find an excuse to bid you goodnight and farewell.’_

But Mr. Bodt only smiled at him. “I’m delighted you already think so highly of me, Mr. Kirstein.”

“Jean,” once again his mouth had moved before he could stop it. “Just Jean. Please.”

“Jean,” Marco drew out the word like he was tasting it. “Well, Jean, I’d be very pleased if you’d use my given name as well.”

Jean couldn’t hide the smile this time, “I’d be happy to, Marco.”

The cook popped out of the kitchen then, bowls of soup in hand, and carefully set them on the table as he exchanged a few cheerful words with Marco. He flashed Jean a smile before disappearing through the doorway again. Jean examined the bowl. It held a savoury smelling tomato soup.

“Is it to your taste?” Marco was watching Jean closely. “I apologize that I didn’t ask beforehand if you had an aversion to anything...”

“Not at all. It looks delicious.” Jean smiled across the table. 

“Excellent.” Marco treated him to another of his sunny smiles. “We don’t stand on ceremony here so please dig in.”

Jean said a short prayer of gratitude over his food before picking up his spoon. The soup was superb and the service excellent. Just as they finished the last spoonfuls the cook reappeared and whisked the bowls away, returning to replace them with garden salads. These were followed with plates holding fine cuts of steak surrounded by tiny roasted new potatoes and mushrooms in a dark gravy. They ate mostly in silence, exchanging small complements about the quality of the food and wine. When the last course was cleared away and Jean didn’t think he could eat another bite the cook brought in two perfect custards. 

Jean’s eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair. “You certainly know how to feed a man here, Marco.”

Marco grinned. “Nac’s the best cook I’ve met in a long time,” he paused for just a moment before continuing, “and I’ve know a lot.”

“Almost better than my mother.” Jean took a small spoonful of the custard and let out a soft groan as the smooth confection nearly melted in his mouth. “This is actually better than hers.”

Marco chuckled. “High praise.”

Jean smiled softly. “Best cook I ever met. She can make anything and it’s usually better than the same dish in a high-end restaurant.”

Marco leaned his elbow on the table and rested his cheek in his palm. “Did you grow up around here?”

“No. I came here straight out of law school. My family actually lives in Trost.”

“A wife?” Marco’s voice sharpened perceptibly.

Jean stared at Marco for a moment but as his freckled countenance slid toward embarrassment Jean began to chuckle. “No, Mr. Bodt, I’m not married. I’m speaking of my parents.”

“That’s a long way away,” Marco’s voice had softened again. “Do you miss them?”

“Sometimes.” Jean shrugged. “I visit them when I can. What about you? Do you have some family in the area?”

Marco’s smile faltered a little but he waved a hand. “My family is kind of spread out all over.” He perked up a little then, head lifting off of his hand as his back straightened. “But I do have a few distant cousins visiting town right now. I haven’t seen them in a while so it’s been nice to catch up.”

“Oh, thats nice,” Jean paused for a moment as something in his brain clicked, then ventured, “One of them wouldn’t happen to be a Miss Arlert, by any chance?”

“Oh!” Marco blinked. “Well, yes, she is in fact. How on earth do you know that?”

Jean shrugged. “I found her trying to get a message across the river the other day. Not many well-bred young ladies from out of town wish to cross the bridge on their own.”

Marco grinned. “She’s... not entirely versed in the rules of this place yet.”

Jean smirked back. “Really? Because I seem to remember there being areas of ill repute in most of the cities I’ve visited.”

“She had a rather... _unique_... upbringing.” Marco picked at a crumb on the tablecloth. “Very free.”

“I see.” Jean took the opportunity to examine Marco’s face more closely while the man wasn’t staring back at him. He had a few more freckles than Jean had originally noticed, and his hair where it fell around his face looked very soft, but it was his expression that really captivated Jean. Marco’s gaze was unfocused and the smile that twisted his lips was small and caught somewhere between soft and amused. Jean swallowed as that awkward heat rose to suffuse his face once again. Marco glanced up and caught Jean looking. His expression must have been strange because Marco’s smile wavered again. Jean looked away and coughed like he was clearing his throat. “How, um, how was your upbringing?”

“Fairly standard, I believe,” there was a lilt in Marco’s voice that sounded like laughter. “How was yours?”

Jean stabbed at his custard with his spoon. It jiggled faintly in protest of the rough treatment. “Standard.”

“Jean,” Marco said then paused. 

Jean waited until the silence was almost uncomfortable before he finally dared to look up and meet Marco’s eyes again. “Yes?”

“You’re blushing.”

Jean ripped his eyes from Marco’s gentle smile to stare at his pudding again. “No. I just-”

“No, you _are_ blushing,” Marco cut him off, leaning his head in his hand again and grinning across the table. Even without staring directly at him Jean felt his flush deepen. “Too handsome for you to handle, is that it?”

Jean felt his lips turn down into a faint frown and pushed his dessert around a little.

“Jean?”

Instead of answering Jean took another bite of custard. It sat heavy on his tongue as he waited for Marco to decipher the meaning of his silence. _‘No point in dragging this out by lying.’_

“Hey,” Marco sounded more serious and Jean braced himself. “Jean. I’m sorry. I was just teasing. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Jean blinked. When he dared a look at Marco his expression was quite contrite, brows pinched with worry. Jean sighed, “You are.”

Marco’s eyes widened a little. “I’m sorry?”

Jean sighed again. “You are. Too handsome.”

Marco’s mouth fell open and Jean pressed his lips together and pushed his chair back. “I can let myself out.”

“No, wait,” Marco scrambled to his feet, usual grace abandoned in his haste. 

“No, it’s fine.” Jean was already halfway to the door when a hand fell lightly on his shoulder. 

Marco squeezed gently as he interposed himself between Jean and the exit. “Please wait, Jean. I think we’ve had a misunderstanding.”

“I agree.” Jean pushed Marco’s hand away just as gently. “I don’t think you knew what you were getting into with my company. And I am ashamed to find that my control isn’t better than this.”

Marco tilted his head fractionally to the side. “Your control?”

Jean tried to push past Marco but the man was like a brick wall. “It’s nothing to trouble yourself over.”

“Well, it is if I want to get to know you.” Marco’s eyes narrowed. “You seemed so eager to talk and to have dinner with me but then you try to cut and run after flattering me all evening?”

Jean turned his head away. “I said it was nothing. I am sorry to have wasted your time.”

“Are you going to apologize for getting my hopes up next?” Marco sighed and his shoulders slumped a little. “Look, I’m sorry, too. I should have been more clear from the start. You’re not interested in girls, are you?”

Jean stopped breathing.

“I’ve been watching you interact with the girls. You never favour one over the others, even when they’re clearly interested in you, and you never stare at them or try to touch them the way the rest of the patrons do.”

Jean’s cheeks felt like they might burst into flame at any moment. He ducked his head away and sucked in a rough breath. “Marco... Mr. Bodt. I am very sorry but I have no idea wha-”

“Look at me,” Marco’s voice didn’t harden or fill with the disgust Jean expected. He flinched when calloused fingertips touched his jaw but Marco left them there until he’d stilled again before tilting his head up. He was smiling again. “Jean. What is it that you want?”

Jean almost closed his eyes but with his secret out there was no need to run anymore and he ended up staring a challenge into those chestnut depths instead. “I want to be more than friends with you.”

Marco’s smile widened, Jean felt something in his chest flutter uncomfortably as he closed the distance between them, then warm lips were pressed against his. After a moment’s shock he threw caution to the wind and pressed himself against Marco, mouth moving hungrily against his. Marco stepped forward, pushing Jean ahead of him until he backed him into the door with a muted thump, not even pausing for a breath. 

Someone knocked, rattling the door against Jean’s back, and he and Marco both froze.

“Marco? Sorry, honey, I know you asked for the time off but there’s a big party just arrived and we’ll be needin’ you up front if things get any rowdier.”

Marco waited until the intruder’s footsteps had retreated down the hall before pulling back to smile ruefully at Jean. “I’m so sorry, Jean, but duty calls. Would you be willing to meet me again sometime?”

Jean felt a little lightheaded, his already flushed cheeks darkening further as he stared into Marco’s dark eyes. “Sometime soon?”

Marco chuckled, a pleasantly mellow sound. “As soon as we can manage. Tomorrow, perhaps? I believe I’ve seen you occasionally walk across the bridge to take your lunch at the saloon?”

“You aren’t mistaken.” Jean couldn’t keep the smile from his face as his breath finally caught up with him. “Tomorrow at noon then? Where shall we meet?”

“Take a turn past the dance hall. I’ll be waiting.”

“I look forward to it.” Jean said, stepping away from the door and straightening his vest as Marco adjusted his own clothing.

“As do I,” Marco replied, grabbing Jean’s hand and kissing the back of it before he opened the door and ushered him into the hall where the tinkle of the piano and the murmur of voices could already be heard.


	12. Bad Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertolt grows accustomed to being Reiner's assistant but finds himself torn between habit and heart.

Reiner slowly tilted the last of the tonic into his patient’s mouth. She sputtered a little but managed to keep it down. He let her slump gently back onto her pillow then reached and began collecting his things. His hand hit something warm that recoiled almost instantly.

“Sorry...” Bertolt was clutching the doctor’s case where he’d already replaced everything except the small bowl Reiner had been using to administer the tonic. 

Reiner smiled at him. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before? It’s almost as if you know what I want before I do.”

Bertolt blushed and ducked his head. “No, nothing like this at all, Doctor Braun.”

“Reiner, Bertolt.” Reiner gave him a smile. “If you're going to stay as my assistant we should be comfortable with each other.”

Bertolt’s hands fidgeted in his lap. “Alright, Reiner.”

Reiner’s smile softened. Despite his size, the tall man managed to be quite endearing. Reiner left some simple instructions with the girl’s family then led Bertolt out of the house. When they reached the street he tilted his head up to look at Bertolt’s face. “Have you given any thought to what you want for dinner?”

Bertolt blinked at him. “Um, no, I haven't.”

Reiner hummed and turned his eyes forward down the road again. “Well, you've been looking a little pale recently and I'm worried that I'm overworking you. So pick something you like and I'll get Mrs. Ral to make it for you. Can't have you collapsing just as we're finally beginning to make some progress against this thing now, can we?”

“Oh... Of course not,” Bertolt replied softly. They walked in silence for a time; the only sounds coming from the gravel crunching under their feet and a few birds flitting around the small trees people had planted in their yards. “Then maybe... roast pork? Would that be okay?”

“Whatever catches your fancy is fine with me.” Reiner reached up and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Protein's a good choice though. Get some red back in those cheeks of yours.”

“Yeah...” Bertolt smiled but something seemed a bit off. Reiner watched him closely the rest of the way home but didn't notice any other symptoms or strange behaviour.

Bertolt retired to his room after telling Mrs. Ral what he wanted (to her delight, she pinched his cheeks and told him as much, adding that she expected him to eat his fill as she was certain that he'd been looking pale and a hearty roast would do him a world of good) claiming that he felt a little tired. Reiner watched him go then headed for his never ending paperwork. If the man was still looking peaked after dinner he'd sit him down for an examination.

 

 

Bertolt sat down heavily on the edge of his bed. He felt so drained and so hungry. He hadn't consumed any energy in days and the effects were beginning to show. The way Reiner handled his patients, the kindness in his words and his gestures, the carefully mixed tonics and medications, and especially the shine in his eyes when one of them began to improve... Bertolt just hadn’t been able to bring himself to undo any of the man’s hard work. He mustered up the energy to crawl up the bed and lie down and was out before he knew it.

 

 

It was dark when he woke. Small flashes of light coming through the windows illuminated the dark just enough for him to see where he was. When he sat up he found that the lethargic, hollow feeling had lessened somewhat. He ran a hand through his hair and climbed out of bed. 

Bertolt made his way carefully into the hall and found that one of the doors at the end was cracked open, a solid beam of light pouring out of it and illuminating the pattern on the carpet. When he pushed the door open he had to shade his eyes while they adjusted. Doctor Braun — Reiner, he corrected himself — was sitting by the bed talking softly to someone. Bertolt watched as the doctor lay one of his large hands on his patient's forehead. He was so gentle that the boy didn't even flinch, just continued chatting brightly with him as Reiner examined his eyes. Bertolt could feel the hunger in him reaching out toward their bright life forces but held it at bay. He watched with a small smile as Reiner performed the rest of his standard examination — one Bertolt was beginning to memorize the steps of — and then tucked the boy into bed, pulling the blanket up under his small chin and giving his head an affectionate pat. 

Reiner glanced over and smiled. “Bertolt. How long have you been here?”

“Oh...” Bertolt swallowed and shifted from foot to foot. “Just a few minutes. I didn't want to disturb you.”

“Come here,” Reiner's smile widened as he spoke, “I want to show you something.”

Bertolt walked over. “Of course.”

“Here,” Reiner's warm hand wrapped around his wrist and guided his hand down to the already sleeping boy's forehead. “Do you think he has a fever?”

“Um...” Bertolt felt the boy's skin. It did feel a little warm but he was much more aware of the warmth of Reiner’s grip. “Perhaps a little?”

“Just a little? Are you sure?” Reiner pressed his hand down a little more firmly.

“I- I'm sure...” Bertolt sucked in a startled breath as Reiner's grip tightened and he forced Bertolt to push the boy's unresisting head into the pillow. “Reiner...?”

“Are. You. Sure.” The man repeated, voice gone cold.

Bertolt felt his hunger latch onto the boy's brightness, tainting it. No matter how he tried he couldn't force it to break off and retreat inside him where it belonged. “Reiner?! W-what’s happening?”

“Eat, Bertolt.” Reiner's smile twisted into a mocking grin. “You look pale.”

His hunger roared to life and Bertolt could feel it tearing into the boy's life, ripping it to pieces and devouring them, starting with the fragile, just-healed portions. Bertolt let out a short scream and tried to rip his hand free but Reiner's grip was stronger than stone. As he watched in horror the boy sighed and went still under his touch. Too late Reiner lifted his hand away. Bertolt stared at Reiner, stomach churning as the doctor, twisted grin still distorting his face, lifted Bertolt's hand to his chest and set it just above his heart. “Why are you doing this?” Bertolt felt tears gathering in his eyes. “Stop it!”

“But you're hungry, Bertolt, you have to eat to live.” Reiner pressed his hand down until Bertolt could feel the thump of his heartbeat pulsing steadily under his palm. “And you have to kill to eat.”

“No.” Bertolt shook his head. “No, I don't want to do that anymore!”

Reiner dug his nails into Bertolt's wrist. “You want to eat, don't you? So kill. Don't you want to? Don’t you hunger for it?”

“Who wants to kill people?!” Bertolt screamed even as he felt the hunger rise up in him again, out of control like some wild beast. As it latched onto Reiner’s life and began to feed on him Bertolt began screaming.

“Bertolt,” Reiner murmured the word even as he got paler and paler. His eyes went wide as saucers as he screamed, “ _Bertolt!_ ”

Bertolt jerked and his eyes flew open. Reiner was standing over him lit with the faint but warm glow that marked the beginning of sunset. When he spoke his voice came out as a dry croak, “R-Reiner?”

“Oh thank God.” Reiner sank to his knees by the bed and smoothed a gentle hand over Bertolt's cold, clammy forehead. “You're okay. You’re safe here. It was just a nightmare.”

Bertolt lay still and tried to catch his breath. _‘Just a nightmare...’_

“That must have been some dream,” Reiner mused as he removed his hand and pulled Bertolt’s covers straight.

Bertolt nodded once and looked away. When he saw that the light of day was still pouring through his window he relaxed marginally.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Reiner asked in a soothing tone.

Bertolt glanced up at the doctor. “I... I can’t really remember what it was about...”

“Alright...” Reiner’s lips pressed together but it was just for a moment and then he was ruffling Bertolt’s hair and pushing himself to his feet. “If you change your mind, just holler, I’ll hear you. Oh, and Mrs. Ral says dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

“Thank you,” Bertolt said in a voice so soft he wasn’t sure Reiner could hear him.

“You’re welcome.” Reiner graced him with a soft smile as the broad man closed the door with a soft click. 

Bertolt let himself relax into the bed as his tension-tight muscles slowly unclenched. _‘He’s fine. It was just a dream. Reiner is fine.’_ He closed his eyes as sorrow weighed upon him, threatening to crush him like a weed under the wheel of a carriage. _‘And you are going to have to go far, far away before you hurt one of the people he cares for.’_


	13. Lunch Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin lured Eren out of his office to go on a picnic lunch.

Armin contemplated his reflection in the mirror. The corset gave him the perfect illusion of womanly hips and Krista had shown him how to pad the front just enough that it seemed he had a modest chest under the properly high neckline of the simple yet elegant China blue gown he was wearing. He turned, watching the way his skirt flared around his boots with a critical eye. Good enough. He leaned in to check his makeup one more time, pulled his collar open just a touch more, then gave a sharp little nod and turned to stride from the room with small measured steps.

“ _Someone's_ looking particularly perfect today,” Ymir jeered from the couch. “You could almost give my angel a run for her money the way you apply that powder.”

“Ymir,” Krista scolded, giving the real angel a smack on her plaid shirt-clad shoulder, “He didn't take that long.”

Armin grinned at Ymir, “Have _you_ ever tried applying makeup?”

“Well-”

“No she hasn't.” Krista stood and shook out her skirts. “She hates the stuff with a passion.”

“Not true, angel,” Ymir lay a hand on the small of Krista’s back, “I like it perfectly fine when you wear it. Even though I can’t comprehend why you think you need it.”

Krista smiled fondly down at Ymir and ran a hand over her chestnut brown hair to where it was tied behind her head in a short ponytail, giving it a light tug. “You’re a darling but we have to get going.”

“Right.” Ymir stood, towering over Krista and Armin both, and smirked at him. “Someone’s got a _tryst_.”

“ _I_ do.” Armin wrapped a light shawl around his shoulders and smoothed the front of his blouse down again. “If you’re done groping each other?”

“You’re getting sassier by the day.” Ymir gave Armin’s rear a swat as he walked past her. “Shoulda put you in a dress earlier. Suits you.”

Armin let the comment slide with pursed lips

 

 

Eren tapped the end of his pen against the heavy wooden desk that took up nearly half of his office. The stack of reports set neatly atop it stared back at him, pale paper and swirls of black ink refusing to coalesce into anything resembling sense. The harder he tried to focus the faster his brain jumped back to the attack in the alley the week previous. And to the lady who’d been with him when it happened.

“Dammit,” his voice was loud in the empty office.

He tossed the pen onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. He knew perfectly well why they’d been able to find him. He’d not made any secret about returning to his hometown after Levi and his deputies had helped him to take down the Titans. He’d even helped a few of the gang’s turncoats (mostly innocent people who’d been happy to share information in exchange for a way to sever the ties wrapped around them by the gang’s leaders) to set up shop in the area-

There was a flash of lapis material outside Eren’s office window and his brain stuttered off mid-thought. He shook his head to clear it. But why had they escaped from the jail? And how had they ended up dead outside the town like that? Men like that didn’t just break off in the middle of an assault. Someone had to have intimidated them enough that they’d turned and perhaps even made a run for it. But who? And did it have any connection to their mauling later in the for-

The blue fluttered enticingly at the edge of his vision again. Eren sighed heavily and pushed himself out of his chair. He walked over to the window and peered out through the heavy, old glass. It was probably just one of the church matrons out doing her shopping in a new dress. As Eren peered outside the alluring colour reappeared, stopping before his astonished eyes. Armina unwrapped delicate fingers from the handle of her parasol and smiled as she waggled her fingers at him. Eren was out the door before he even realized what he was doing. 

“Miss Arlert!” He set his hat on his head, thanking all that was holy that he’d somehow remembered to grab it. “Good afternoon!”

“Good afternoon, Sheriff” She waved to Ymir and Miss Lenz who were standing a short distance away. The pair nodded and headed off down the boardwalk, the former grinning like a madman. As soon as they were out of earshot she turned her small but warm smile back to Eren. “How are you, Eren?”

Eren felt his heart swell and struggled to rein his expression in and keep it under control. “I’m well. And yourself, Armina?”

Her blue eyes danced as she took in his face. “I’m well. Are you a little overheated, Eren? Your cheeks are pink.”

“No.” Then the meaning of her words sank in and he stuttered out, “Y-yes, I mean, thank you for noticing. I suppose I might be.” He rubbed the back of his hand over his cheek, it felt hot. “Are you in town for anything in particular?”

“Mm, yes.” She twirled the parasol slowly.

“What sort of thing? I was about to take my lunch? I see you already have escorts to show you about the town but I might... might accompany you to lunch if you don’t have any objections?” His stomach tightened as he realized that she might well tell him no.

“Actually, I was thinking of taking my lunch soon as well...” Armina glanced down and laced her fingers together over the handle of her parasol. “I would be delighted if you might like to accompany me. Do you have any suggestions as to location?”

Eren racked his brains for places that served meals at lunch. He only ever went to one place if he wasn’t returning home to have lunch with Mikasa. “To the... saloon?” 

Amina laughed, a soft chuckle that made Eren’s stomach turn over. “Perhaps a restaurant at one of the hotels might do just as well?”

Eren flushed, “Oh. Um, yeah.” Of course a hotel would be a much more suitable place for a young lady to be seen. What had he been thinking?

“Or,” her head tilted thoughtfully as she spoke, exposing a little more pale skin, “We could order a basket and go for a picnic?”

“A picnic?”

“Yes, to the lawn where the bandstand is, or perhaps down by the riverside.” She twisted her hips slowly as she thought and her skirt flared out just a little around her ankles. “Perhaps down by the riverside might be nice? Ymir tells me it’s quite cool there even at midday.”

“Anywhere you’d like,” Eren told her earnestly. 

Armina smiled and leaned forward, reaching out to brush her fingers against the back of his hand where it hung forgotten at his side. “I’m sure I’m disturbing you from your work so I’ll have Ymir help me order it. I’ll return as soon as it’s prepared.”

Eren swallowed. “Of course! And not at all. You’re not disturbing me at all, I mean. I’ll be waiting.”

She left, a smile on her lips and a distinct sway to her hips as she stepped down the boardwalk toward the now-distant figures of Ymir and Miss Lenz. Eren returned to his office but got a grand total of nothing done as he waited, his mind too full of eyes bright as the ocean, rosy cheeks, and milky skin to hold any other thoughts.

 

 

Armin pretended to lug the picnic basket down the sidewalk as he approached the Sheriff’s office. As he passed the first window the door sprung open and a tall young man with a terrible, bowl-style haircut appeared. 

“Miss? Are you in need of assistance?”

“Oh, thank you!” He allowed the man to take the basket and relaxed his shoulders and back, drawing a hand across his forehead as if wiping away nonexistent sweat. “Is Mr. Jaeger in by any chance?”

“Marlow?” Eren’s voice rang out from inside.

The man half-turned and called, “Someone here for you, Sheriff.”

“Armina?” Eren shot out the door still doing up the last button on his jacket. “Oh, you carried that all the way here yourself?” 

Armin fiddled with his parasol, using it as an excuse to hide his smile. He’d sounded distraught at the thought. “Oh, Ymir helped me most of the way. But I didn’t want to keep him from Krista for too long.”

“Really. I would have happily come along, Armina.” Eren frowned as he relieved Marlow of the basket and hooking it over his own arm. “Thank you, Marlow, I’ll be taking my lunch now. See you in an hour or so.”

“Sir.” Marlow snapped a quick salute, tipped his hat to Armina, and headed back inside. 

“Shall we?” Armina smiled brightly and lay his hand lightly on Eren’s forearm. He noted how firm the arm was under the jacket as he did so. 

“Yes,” Eren replied, smiling down at Armin warmly, scolding forgotten. As they began to walk Armin took a chance and moved close enough that he could link his arm with Eren’s. He was rewarded with another of those faint blushes. 

Armin waited until they had left the main street behind and were strolling along a deserted, winding trail. “Eren?”

“Yes?” Eren’s response was immediate as he’d been waiting for a chance to speak.

“Have you found out anything more about those criminals?”

“No, not yet.” Eren’s eyes flashed gold for a moment and Armin felt something in his chest flutter as a short rush of righteous power surged through him, leaving a slight burning sensation in its wake. “But I will.”

They walked in silence for a little longer before Eren broke it again. “Armina?” 

Armin hummed in reply as his eyes roved over the path in front of them.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything else that night?” Eren’s face was clouded now, Armin couldn’t read the emotions moving across it and through those clear eyes.

The trail flattened out and wound in a great arc about the edge of the riverbank. Armin let Eren help him over a particularly large boulder as they cut across a dry stream bed that lay between them and the grassy riverbank. “I told you... I panicked.” And it was the truth. To some degree.

“I remember. Whoops!” Eren’s arm wrapped tight around Armin’s waist as he stumbled over some loose rocks. “Careful there.” Eren’s breath was hot against his ear. 

“T-thank you, Eren,” Armin supressed a shiver but lingered in Eren’s arms and the warm heat of his desire for as long as he dared before pushing himself back onto his own two feet. He took Eren’s hand in his, for safety, as they made their way toward the picnic area.


	14. Picnics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco are enjoying a picnic of their own but get rather rudely interrupted.

Jean was hyper-aware of every move Marco made as they sat on the old picnic blanket he’d brought, his hand resting lightly in Marco’s. They were picking at the last bits of the lunch Marco had provided (compliments of Nac) that lay spread out between them when an odd sound from somewhere behind then made the hairs on the back of Jean’s neck stand up. He whipped his head around to look. “Was that a squirr-”

“Shh,” Marco hissed, leaning forward to press a warm hand over Jean’s mouth.

Jean made a tiny annoyed sound but stayed quiet as they both stared out into the trees. He could see the gleam of sunlight reflecting from the river through the trees but nothing else. He grunted softly at Marco.

“No, stay quiet, if that was a squirrel I’m an angel...” Marco growled under his breath, somehow already on his feet in a defensive crouch. 

Jean wasn’t so sure about either part of that statement but kept his thoughts to himself as he slowly eased himself into a kneeling position on the blanket they’d spread over one of the grassy spaces between the stands of aspen clustered around the river’s bank. No other sounds came for a spell save for the chirping of birds and the rustle of a breeze through the leaves. Marco had begun to relax, tension leaving his limbs, but hadn’t yet removed his hand from Jean’s mouth so Jean licked his palm to remind him.

“Oh?” Marco’s face slid into a grin as he turned twinkling eyes on Jean. “You don’t like that?”

Jean rolled his eyes then yelped as Marco rolled him over onto a picnic-free side of the blanket and pinned him to the ground. He suddenly felt too hot under the combined weight of Marco’s body and his dark gaze as it raked over his body. “Marco?”

“How long did you say you had for lunch today?” Marco let go of one of his arms to fish the pocket-watch out of Jean’s vest and Jean shivered as he felt the man’s hands, albeit through several layers of fabric, brush across his stomach.

“A little more than an hour,” Jean said, voice a little breathy.

“Mm, not long enough.” Marco leaned down and began kissing Jean. He nipped at Jean’s lips and when Jean gasped Marco took advantage of his parted lips to slide his tongue in and explore.

“Armina, I’m sure you’re just hearing- Oh.” Jean froze, insides turning to ice as he recognized the voice approaching them. 

Marco drew back with a soft swear, bracing his hands on either side of Jean’s shoulders as he turned to glare at the interlopers. 

“Um, hello there, Jean...” Eren was staring at them in wide-eyed shock.

“Hi, Eren.” Jean wished he could sink into the ground. In front of Eren stood the young lady he’d met the week before, Miss Lenz’s cousin, who was staring at Marco with an amused grin. Jean looked up at Marco.

“Hello, Armin,” Marco’s voice was resigned. 

“Marco,” she replied, getting a handle on her expression. Jean could still see the smile dancing around the corners of her mouth.

“Armina?” Eren lay a hand on her shoulder, speaking softly, “Why don’t we go back to our picnic?” Armina quietly accented — her laughing expression morphing in front of Jean’s suspiciously narrowed eyes to one of pleasant good-humour — and turned back to Eren. “Why don’t you two join us when you’re done? We’ll be a little closer to the bridge.” Eren waited until Armina had taken a step back in the direction they’d come from then gave Jean a long and very obvious wink and a grin. 

Jean blinked back at the Sheriff dumbly. By the time he’d pulled himself together enough to reply the two of them were too far away for him to call out. 

“Well, that actually went better than expected.” Marco sat back and helped Jean to sit up. 

“What do you mean better?” Jean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “If that girl is a gossip we’re in trouble.”

“She’s not.” Marco assured him, smiling widely, “She’s one of my cousins. And since it looks like your friend also approves I think we’re safe.”

“Y-yeah...” Jean looked after Eren again. “I guess he does.”

“Should we pack up and go talk to them?” Marco rested a hand against Jean’s cheek. “Or do you want some help calming down again before that?”

Jean laughed shakily, “I think if you try and help me _calm down_ I might never find the will to go.”

Marco grinned, “Should we clean up then?”

Jean nodded and the two of them began to pack away the remnants of their lunch.

 

 

Armin cheerfully unpacked their picnic basket and set everything out. 

Eren watched her, concern clouding his thoughts. Armin didn’t seem disturbed by what they’d seen, but had she fully understood the situation? “Um, Armina...” 

She paused and looked up at him, holding a wrapped bundle in the air, “Yes, Eren?”

“About before...”

“You mean Marco and Mr. Kirstein?” She smiled and set the bundle down. When she unwrapped it with deft fingers it turned out to be cold roast chicken. “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”

Eren blinked. “Oh. That’s very kind of you. You know that man?”

“He’s a distant cousin.” She smiled at him and set the now-empty basket aside. “You weren’t surprised either, were you?”

Eren coughed into his hand. “I, um, no... I wasn’t.”

She nodded decisively. “Marco’s always leaned away from the fairer sex.”

Eren relaxed and smiled ruefully, “It seems Jean has, too. Although until today it was only a suspicion I held.”

Armina passed him a plate and removed her gloves before beginning fill their plates with food from the various containers. “You’re close friends?”

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” Eren admitted, popping one of the sugar pea pods Armina had set out into his mouth. 

“He seems kind. I met him once just after I arrived here.” Armina sat back with her plate and began to eat as well. 

“You don’t say a blessing?” Eren asked as he picked at his plate.

“Oh, you just started eating so I thought it would be okay if I did, too.” Armina blushed a little and looked down at her plate.

“No, it’s fine, I usually don’t.” Eren smiled and began to nibble on a piece of chicken. It was quite good. They exchanged small talk as they ate, Eren trying to keep his eyes from straying to Armina’s bodice, or neckline, or waist, or ankles... _‘What is_ wrong _with me?!’_

Armina, for her part, seemed shy. He kept catching her glancing when she thought he wasn’t looking. Just when he’d almost gotten the courage up to ask her if she was having a good time with him loud footsteps crashed through the forest behind him and he sighed.

“Eren? Can we talk?” Jean stopped beside Eren but Marco continued around to Armina’s side. 

They were cousins, Eren reminded himself as he pushed away his annoyance before replying to Jean, “Sure. Sit down.”

Marco plopped down at the blanket beside Armina. “So have you confessed your secret yet?”

“Marco!” Armina’s eyes went wide in shock as Eren’s narrowed.

“Oh hush. And don’t you try to pretend that was an accident.” Marco reached over then paused, hand hovering uncertainly between them. “May I have some of your chicken?”

“Fine,” she huffed and passed him the plate.

“So...” Jean was looking at his hands when Eren ripped his attention away from Armina. 

“So?” Eren offered him a tin full of miniature iced tea cakes. 

Jean took one. “I guess... You didn’t seem very surprised, earlier” He peered at Eren from the corner of his eyes without turning his head. “At all.” 

Eren smiled as he took a cookie for himself before setting the tin down. “Not really. You’ve never shown much interest in girls, Jean. In fact, the only person I’ve ever seen you mope after is Mikasa.”

“I wasn’t ‘moping after’ him,” Jean snapped. He ate his cake with angry little bites then sighed and deflated a little. “Well, I guess I did. Was it that obvious though?”

“Only because we’re friends and he’s _my brother_.” Eren punched him lightly in the shoulder. “And if it helps I wasn’t completely sure until I saw you today.”

“Oh. I see.” Jean slumped a little, ramrod straight spine relaxing to a normal curve. “And you’re not disgusted?”

“Jean,” Eren sighed deeply and took a moment to gather his thoughts. “You’ve lived a good life. Been a good friend even during the times when I’ve been a real ass. Who the hell am I to judge you?”

Marco looked at Eren curiously as he reached for a cookie on the plate Armina was holding out toward him. “So, Mr. Jaeger, you don’t care about that sort of thing? Thank you, Armin.”

Armina yanked the plate away before Marco’s fingers could close on one of the sweets and Eren saw Marco flinch and wince as if he’d been hit. She settled herself and began to methodically move all the dishes and tins out of his reach. “That’s enough out of you, Marco.”

“Hey...” 

Eren coughed and both their eyes snapped back to him. “No, it’s not the sort of thing I care about.”

Marco nudged Armina with an elbow and she swatted him away. “ _No_ , Marco.”

“And it doesn’t bother you to see it?” Marco asked, stretched toward the cookie plate.

“Noooo,” Eren said slowly.

“Have _you_ ever been attracted to a man?” Marco almost had one but Armin punched him in the shoulder and he sat back with a small, “Ow!” 

“Marco!” Jean was aghast. “That’s a very personal question.”

Eren coughed into his hand hoping it hid the blush on his cheeks. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Mr. Marco...”

“Bodt. And you have my apologies.” Marco sat back, seeming to have accomplished whatever incomprehensible goal he had been searching for with those questions. Armina leaned over and whispered something Eren couldn’t quite catch into Marco’s ear and the man went a little pale as his expression slid from contrite to actual fear. “I truly am sorry if I’ve upset you with my questions, Mr. Jaeger.”

Armina nodded once, sharply, and began fidgeting with her gloves.

After a few moments Jean broke the silence. “Well. I suppose lunchtime is almost up for me.” As he gathered up the mostly empty basket he and Marco had brought he whispered, “I’m so sorry, he’s not normally like this,” to Eren. 

Eren just smiled back at him. “Not at all. Don’t worry yourself. He seems like a very open, friendly sort and I’m happy for you.”

Jean blushed quite pink at that and hurried away with Marco.

Eren sat there after Jean and Marco had disappeared into the forest, enjoying the view of Armina with her skirts spread around her and the sun shining on her golden hair. As he did so, however, she began to fidget more noticeably. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, picking at his memories of the last few minutes as he tried to think of what might be upsetting her even after the other two men had gone. 

“Well, aren’t you going to ask?” Armina looked almost miserable as she picked up an empty tin and placed it carefully back in the basket.

“Ask what?” Eren felt a frown of concern coming on.

“About my secret...” Armina almost mumbled it as she collected dishes.

“You’re allowed to have secrets. Everyone does.” Eren tried a reassuring smile.

Armina continued putting the containers away without looking at him. “Did... I mean to say- Were you _blushing_ when Marco asked if you’d ever been attracted to a man, Eren?” 

“I...” Eren felt his stomach fall. Had that disgusted her? “Well... I... Yes. I did.”

Her movements faltered and her shoulders sagged. Eren felt the world start to slip out from under his feet and reached a hand out toward her. “I-I’ve never ac-”

“I’m glad.” Armin cut him off and when she looked up with a beautific smile he couldn’t seem to get the rest of the sentence he’d been planning past his lips.

“You’re... glad?” Eren managed, letting his hand lower slowly as soon as he noticed it hanging midair.

“Yes.” She said simply and continued packing up the basket.

Eren, the twisting in his chest now caused by confusion instead of worry, moved to help her without a second thought. “I’m glad you don’t mind.”

Armina simply turned and kissed him on the cheek. Eren froze then felt the blush creep up his cheeks and set his face on aflame. He still hadn’t gotten control of himself by the time he picked up the basket and offered Armina a hand up. She held on even after she was back on her feet and he felt so light that he worried for a moment the wind might scoop him up and blow him away. 

They held hands until they reached the edge of town at which point Armina moved her hand up and took his arm like a proper young lady. When they arrived back at his office Eren cleared his throat and looked down into the shining blue eyes. “Armina...”

She smiled up at him. “Eren?”

Eren gave her a soft, shy smile. “Would you... I mean, if it’s no trouble, would it be possible to take you out to dinner one night?” 

“I was hoping you’d ask,” she said, giving him a dazzling smile. 

Eren felt a grin spreading over his own face as he released her arm. “Tomorrow then? I’ll pick you up at six.”

“That sounds wonderful.” She told him and gave his arm a little squeeze before she stepped away.

Eren watched her until she turned down a side-street and out of sight before he opened the door to the office. Marlow was sitting at his desk but a small smile curled his lips as he sorted through some papers. Eren eyed him suspiciously, “What is it, Marlow?”

“Nothing, Sir.” Marlow continued his sorting without even looking at Eren. “She’s just cute, is all.”

Eren eyed his deputy skeptically but let it be and returned to his office and the reports that were waiting for him.


	15. Sickbed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite Reiner's best efforts Bertolt's condition worsens.

Reiner watched helplessly as Bertolt grew weaker and weaker. On the third day Reiner forced him to stay in bed and had Mrs. Ral prepare food that was easy to digest but still filling. It was baffling. He’d examined him every day but nothing seemed to be ailing him. He was as strong as ever physically, just devoid of any energy. Almost like starvation if it could affect the spirit instead of the body.

By the fourth day even walking down to the dining room seemed to tire him out and he was having trouble keeping solid foods down. Hands that had been so sure as they plucked medicine from the shelves or handed Reiner tools shook so badly that Bertolt couldn’t even hold his own spoon. Reiner balanced on the edge of Bertolt’s bed and fed him the rich broth Mrs. Ral had prepared like he was a child. When he was done Bertolt murmured soft thanks as Reiner helped lay him back down on his pillows.

“I have to go do my rounds now,” he told him, unable to tear his eyes from Bertolt’s gaunt, pale face. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Bertolt nodded, smiling, and closed his eyes. Reiner paused long enough to tuck the blankets up under his chin before picking up the tray and quietly letting himself out.

“How is he?” Mrs Ral was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her hands gripping her apron. “Was he able to eat anything?”

“He ate all the broth.” Reiner’s smile was strained as he handed her the empty bowl.

“Oh I do hope he takes a turn for the better soon,” Mrs. Ral fussed as she headed back for the kitchen. “Such a nice lad. And he’s been such a help to you, doctor!”

“Yes.” Reiner let the smile fall away as soon as her back was turned. “He has.”

He collected his bag, careful to check its contents so he didn’t repeat the previous day’s embarrassing absentmindedness (he’d been forced to return home twice for forgotten tools and medicines) before leaving to begin his rounds. It seemed that all those who had been suffering from the strange fever were on the mend or already fully healed so his workload had decreased substantially. It didn’t take him long to get around to visiting the Jaeger house to do a follow-up examination on Eren’s head.

When Mikasa met him at the door something in the young man’s posture seemed to speak of unease. 

“Good afternoon, Mikasa. Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” Mikasa murmured in his low voice. “Mr. Kirstein is, however, visiting just at the moment.”

Reiner’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Have they been at each other’s throats again?”

“No,” his soft voice was clipped as he elaborated, “Not yet.” He stepped back and held the door open for Reiner to enter. 

He did, but when Mikasa gestured for him to head up the stairs Reiner stopped until he’d turned to face Reiner fully. “Mikasa, it’s been a while since you’ve come to see me. How is the new binding corset working out? You’ve not had any trouble with it? Or discomfort?”

Mikasa blushed faintly as he looked down at his chest and murmured, “It’s fine. It doesn’t rub when I’m working like the old one did.”

“I’m glad,” Reiner smiled and lay a gentle, cautious hand on his shoulder. “You make sure to tell me at once if anything is wrong or if you need a new one commissioned.”

“I will.” Mikasa shifted and looked up the stairs.

“I know the way if you’d prefer to stay down here?” Reiner offered.

“I’d appreciate that.” Mikasa said, and when Reiner started up the stairs he headed back toward the kitchen long, dark braid bouncing behind him.

“Eren, if you could just-”

“Jean. I have told you time and again that I am not going to pursue it any further. They’re dead. I don’t care.”

As Reiner stepped into the room he saw Jean bow his head and rub his hands over his face. “Eren...”

“Good afternoon,” Reiner called.

“Oh!” Eren’s scowl lifted from his face as Reiner entered. “Good afternoon, Reiner.”

“Afternoon,” Jean said, looking up at Reiner with the slow movements of a man exhausted after a long battle.

“Just thought I’d pop by for that follow-up I promised you, Eren,” He sat himself down on the edge of Eren’s bed. “How have you been feeling?”

“Well enough, when this pretentious idiot isn’t in here trying to get me to agree to let him draft extravagant notifications of death to the relatives of dead people,” Eren groused as Reiner gently grabbed his head and began examining his eyes.

“That is _not_ what I just said and you know it, Eren,” Jean sighed deeply, “I just want you to let me see if I can wheedle any information out of them about the whereabouts of any other escaped gang members or a resurgence of Titan activity.”

“Folk probably can’t even read. I should juth go and intherrogae them mythelf,” Eren slurred as Reiner tried to look into his mouth.

“Eren. Just say ‘aaaah’,” Reiner told him as he forced Eren’s tongue down with a depressor. 

Eren grumbled a little but finally gave in with a grudging, “Ah.”

“There’s a good chance that many of them won’t have anything to do with the gang at all, Eren, and even if they do once they see _you_ standing on their doorsteps I guarantee they won’t be inclined to talk!”

Eren glared at the judge from the corner of his eye and gurgled something unintelligible but decidedly angry at him.

“Eren,” Reiner used a firmer tone and the sheriff subsided after one last icy glance at Jean.

“‘Ere er-oou?” 

“What?” Reiner removed the depressor, giving it up as a bad job, and moved on to feeling over Eren’s scalp with sure fingers.

Eren moved his mouth around for a moment, getting used to controlling it, before speaking again, “Where’s Bertolt?”

Reiner found his hands had stilled and quickly resumed checking Eren’s scalp for bumps or lesions. “He’s not been feeling well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Eren said, sounding honestly contrite. “I hope he gets better soon.”

“Thank you. I do, too.” Reiner finished checking the back of Eren’s neck. “Now don’t you dare talk until I take this out.” He stuck a thermometer in the man’s mouth.

“Bertolt?” Jean asked curiously.

“My assistant. Tall fellow, dark hair, new in town?”

Jean was silent for a moment, when Reiner glanced over he was watching Eren twitch with annoyance at being forced to keep silent. “The meek-looking fellow who attended church with you last week?”

“That’s the one.” Images of gentle green eyes and tentative hands filled Reiner’s mind and he was hard pressed not to shake it as he brought himself back to the present.

Jean gave Reiner a small smile. “I’m sure that in your capable hands he’ll have no choice but to recover as fast as is humanly possible.”

Reiner felt his stomach hollow out with worry but mustered up a smile in return as he answered, “I hope you’re right, Jean.”


	16. Save the Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin's date does not go as planned.

Eren held the bouquet behind his back as he waited by the gates to Ymir and Krista’s garden. His mind was full of thoughts of the evening to come, the reservations he’d made at the nicest hotel in town, what sort of face Armina might make she she saw the roses he’d bought, if he might get another kiss on the cheek or perhaps even more. He never even heard them coming.

 

 

Armin, a little late after Krista had insisted on fussing over his hair again, picked up his shirts and rushed down the path toward the road where Eren was supposed to be waiting. When he got there he slid to a stop in his heeled boots and peered around. No one. His heart sunk. And then the world exploded into stars.


	17. Nighttime confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa interrupts Marco and Jean's evening with some bad news.

A loud banging rang through Jean’s house as someone’s fist thumped heavily against the front door. Jean glared at it and tried to stand up. “Marco...” 

“Do you have to?” Marco sighed, hands still resting on Jean’s waist. “It can’t be anything good at this hour.”

Jean smiled and extracted himself from Marco’s grip before making his way to the door. “You’re probably right but I’m afraid I’m always on call for my job.” Marco sighed deeply but let him go. Before Jean could reach the door the pounding came again. “A moment!” Jean called and the pounding stopped. Marco heard him open the door and then there was a pause before he exclaimed, “Mikasa?”

“Jean!” The unfamiliar voice was soft. “Jean, it’s Eren...” Marco’s ears perked up at that and he watched the doorway to the sitting room intently.

“Come in.” Jean said, and the click of the door closing echoed down the hall. He reappeared, leading a the slight man who’d answered the door at the house Jean had visited the day Marco had followed him. Jean gently sat him down in a chair on the other side of the room. Marco stood and walked over, keeping an unobtrusive distance.

“What’s this about Eren, Mikasa?” Jean lay a hand over his and the man flinched a little. 

“He didn’t come home this evening. And when I went to ask at the hotels I heard that he’d missed his reservation.” He took a deep breath and his expression hardened into a stiff mask. “I also heard that some strange men had been seen in town asking about the Sheriff recently. I looked everywhere but they’re gone. And so is Eren.”

Jean turned to look at Marco for a moment before returning his attention to Mikasa. He took a deep breath before he spoke again, “Alright. Mikasa, why don’t you go check at Krista’s house? Just in case he was with Armina?”

“I did.” His voice sank to a near whisper. “Armina is gone, too.” Marco stiffened. If Armin had disappeared too then something had gone very, very wrong. They would need to get there as quickly as possible. If Armin lost control...

“Shit. He wouldn’t have left overnight without telling you.” Jean ran a hand over his face. “Okay. Go get Ymir.”

“She’s going to be taking this as a personal affront,” Marco cut in. The angel considered any who stayed underneath her roof hers to protect and took her responsibility to them very seriously. She wasn’t stupid though, she’d go with reinforcements. “But I doubt she’s left town yet.”

Mikasa eyed him suspiciously. Marco tried to look as innocent as possible.

Jean put a hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Mikasa, this is Marco, he’s a friend.” 

Mikasa visibly relaxed and let Jean help him to his feet. “Alright. Where should we meet?”

Jean thought for a moment, “Outside my office.” 

Mikasa nodded and Jean showed him to the door. Marco followed. Jean didn’t bother to close it behind Mikasa and simply reached for his jacket and hat. “Marco, I’m so sorry but I’m afraid-”

“I’m coming with you.” Marco’s face was set in a determined frown.

Jean sighed. “I don’t suppose I can dissuade you?” Marco gave him a flat look. Jean sighed. “Fine. God knows you probably know more about fighting than I do.” He handed Marco his jacket and they headed out.

 

 

When they reached the office no one else had arrived. Marco unlocked the door and they stepped into the dark space. As he was looking for matches to light some candles Marco’s voice sounded uncertainly from the darkness. “Jean, we have to get there quick.”

“Yeah, if it’s the Titan’s they’re going to be in trouble. I know.” Jean finally found the small box in one of his drawers and struck a match so he could see where the candles were. Marco was closer than he’d thought and he started, almost fumbling his match. 

Marco reached out a hand to steady him. “No, that’s not what I meant. Armin is... special.”

“Especially pretty, yes, I can imagine you’re quite worried for her.” Jean managed to light one candle before he had to shake out the match. 

“Jean, no, he’s a demon.”

Jean blinked as he used the single candle to light the others. “A... demon? Marco, I know you said she had a rather... _unique_ upbringing, but that’s a rather harsh word to use on your own kin.”

“No, Jean, an actual demon. Malevolent spirit, fiend, fallen angel.” Marco sighed deeply and stared down at Jean’s desk. “I am, too.”

Jean blinked and took a moment, going over the words, trying to find any possible meaning that made more sense than the words Marco had just said. “Marco, I don’t think I heard you right...?”

Marco groaned and closed warm hands on Jean’s shoulders. “Yes, you did, Jean. I’m a demon.”

“I don’t-” Jean moved forward and raised a hand to place his wrist against Marco’s forehead. “Are you feeling alright? Did you catch that fever that was going around?”

Marco just stood there, avoiding eye contact as Jean checked his wrist against his own forehead. “No, I didn’t. It’s the truth. And that’s why we need to go after them. If things get bad Armin is going to let loose and Eren might end up as collateral damage.” 

Jean felt his heart sink. Marco had seemed so well-balanced up until now. Something must be wrong. “I’m going after them. You’re going straight to Reiner’s house and going to bed. You feel a little hot and I don’t want to risk you-”

“Jean!” Marco’s brown eyes fixed on Jean’s and held his gaze. “I’ll show you. Just... sit down. There.” He pointed at one of the chairs Jean kept for clients.

Jean hesitated. “If I still don’t believe you will you let me take you to Reiner’s? We’re running out of time.”

“I know!” Marco growled as he shoved Jean toward the chair hard enough to make him stumble. “Oh. Dammit.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. Just, please sit.”

“Okay...” Jean did as he was told. The violence had sent his pulse racing and he was honestly not sure he could wrestle Marco into a sickbed if he didn’t want to go. Fever or not.

Marco paced back and forth for a moment then took off his jacket and folded it carefully before laying it over the back of the other chair in front of Jean’s desk. “Just...” He paused to take a deep breath and began unbuttoning his shirt. The raw, anxious look on his face tugged at Jean’s heart and helped him keep from staring at Marco’s sculpted chest. “Just please, even if you’re scared, please don’t run.”

“Why would I run?” Jean said in the tone he usually reserved for children and hysterical women.

“Just promise me!” Marco’s eyes flashed as he turned to look at Jean. His shoulders fell and he wrung his shirt between his hands. “Please. I don’t think I could bear it.”

“I won’t run.” Jean set his hands in his lap, palms up and relaxed, and let his shoulders fall back to present the calmest body language possible.

“Okay.” Marco sucked in another deep breath and set the crumpled shirt aside. “Okay.” He shook out his arms as he took a few steps back and carefully placed his feet shoulder width apart. Eyes pinched with worry peered at Jean as Marco rubbed his hands against the fabric of his slacks. “Y-you promise? Really?”

Jean was starting to feel flutters of sympathetic anxiety in his own chest but made sure his words came out smooth and sure, “I promise. No running. Even if I’m scared.”

Marco flashed him a quick smile, one that was too small and didn’t reach his eyes. “Okay.” He breathed in, chest expanding almost impossibly wide, and then breathed out. “Here goes.”

“Ok..a...” Jean’s voice trailed off as wings filled the space around Marco. Dark and leathery and shining like a pair of freshly blacked boots in the flickering light of the candles. When Marco looked at him his irises had grown and turned to black. Or, no, not entirely, it was as if the chocolate brown he adored was being devoured by the black of his pupils, sucked into an endless abyss that tugged at Jean as he stared into it. 

“Jean...?” Marco moved, freeing him from the spell of those eyes, and Jean shook his head before he looked at the man he thought he might be falling in love with again. Man no longer. Marco’s fingernails had extended to long, vicious claws and tiny horns protruded from his temples. Marco shifted from foot to foot and reached up to uncertainly touch one of the gracefully curving points. “I... I understand if you’re horrified.”

Jean swallowed, trying to find words.

Marco looked down, his wings collapsing a little from their initial proud spread to cloak Marco in shadows. “I didn’t want it to happen this way... I didn’t want you to have to see me like this.”

“Marco.” Jean’s own voice startled him out of his shock. “You- You’ve always been like this?” 

When Marco twisted his lips into a facsimile of his warm smile it nearly broke Jean’s heart. “Forever.” 

A lifetime of church lessons rushed through Jean’s head and he murmured, “How old _are_ you...?”

“I don’t remember.” Marco’s wings furled more tightly around his shoulders. “I... We weren’t always like this. Originally we were more vicious, less... aware. I can remember knights though, shining like angels on their horses in battle. And the greek theatres...”

Jean couldn’t quite take all that in. He was glad he was sitting down. “And you... You’re worried I won’t love you? Just because you sprouted some wings and need your nails trimmed?”

Marco’s head snapped up and Jean found himself staring into those beautiful, terrifying eyes again. “What?”

Jean smirked, his training covering the confusion and fear still threatening to spin him out of control. “A judge and demon. I think there’s some irony to be appreciated there.”

Marco took a hesitant step forward. “Wait, can you repeat what you just said? Do you? Love me, that is?”

Jean reached out and Marco lay one hand in his. It was just as warm and calloused as it had always been. Jean traced one of his short, rounded fingernails over a claw. “I think I might. Given a little more time.”

Marco stood still and let Jean explore his hand. When Jean finally forced his head up he saw tears shining in Marco’s eyes. The mess of emotions in his chest faded and he barked a short laugh, “Marco. You have got to be the worst demon ever.” Marco glared at him through the tears but Jean just grabbed his other hand and pulled him down. “Kiss me you idiot.”


	18. Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertolt tries to help.

Bertolt had been sleeping restlessly when the knock at the door had come. He managed to lever himself up and slide to the end of the bed by his window. It was open just a crack and through it he could hear the worried voices of people discussing something on the porch. 

“Eren and Armina?” Reiner’s deep voice said in a concerned tone.

“Both of them.” Bertolt recognized Ymir’s voice.

“I’ll get my things.” Reiner’s voice faded as he moved into the house. “Do you have any idea where they’ve gone?”

“No. No one saw them go,” Ymir growled. “We’re gonna have to start with the roads.”

 _‘Armin...’_ Bertolt had heard enough. He slid out of bed and found his clothes. Even just putting them was so exhausting that he was shaking by the time he finished forcing the last button through its hole. He leaned against the wall as he made his way downstairs. Reiner was just leaving his office, bag in hand and jacket tossed over his arm, when Bertolt finally reached the landing and paused to catch his breath. 

His movement caught Reiner’s attention and the man dropped his bag with a clatter. “Bertolt!” He rushed up the stairs and gathered him in his strong arms. “What are you doing?”

“Reiner?” Ymir walked in and frowned at the fallen bag. “What are you doing? We need to g-” Her gaze fell on Bertolt and she froze. Her expression became somehow even more grim.

“I know. I just need to get him back in bed.” Reiner lifted Bertolt easily.

“No, wait.” Ymir took the stairs two at a time. “I’ll take him. You go in case there are any injuries to take care of. Follow Mikasa.”

“Alright.” Reiner reluctantly slid Bertolt into Ymir’s arms. “Just make sure you tuck him straight into bed.”

“Even I can do that,” she snorted. 

“And don’t you dare so much as stir an inch from that bed before I get back.” Reiner spared a moment to give Bertolt a sharp glance. 

Bertolt folded under the weight of his stare. “Okay.”

Ymir waited until the doctor had gathered his bag and headed out the door before looking up at the him. “So. Looks like you’ve gotten yourself in a spot of trouble.”

Bertolt just nodded stiffly.

“You gonna tell him?” She turned and started walking back up the stairs.

“No!” Bertolt struggled weakly. “Armin’s in trouble. I need to help him!”

“Idiot.” Ymir sat him down on the stairs so she could look him in the eye. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish in this state? You’re just going to hold the rest of us back.”

Bertolt felt his breath catch in his throat and covered his face with his hands. “I have to do _something_.”

Ymir sighed and tapped her foot. “What. What are you gonna do? You’re about as much good as a sack of god-dammed potatoes right now. Let me tuck you into bed, Me ‘n Marco will go sort this shit out — you know perfectly well that Armin won’t be in any trouble no matter how it goes — and then we’ll bring your doctor back safe and sound and figure out what the hell we’re gonna do with you.” 

Bertolt wavered for a few moments more before nodding miserably and allowing Ymir to help him back to his room and tuck him into bed. Despite his best efforts it didn’t take sleep long to drag him down.


	19. Titans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin wakes up to finds that both he and Eren have been kidnapped.

Armin woke to coarse whispers and ugly smirks in the pre-dawn light. When he tried to move chains rattled and his wrists and ankles burned with sudden pain. He looked down his body to find rough manacles restraining him and clicked his tongue at the rust and mud smeared all over his once-lovely dress. Someone was going to pay.

“Armina?” The whisper came from behind him. 

“Eren?” Armin used his quietest whisper and relaxed marginally when he heard a sigh of relief behind him.

“Are you okay?” He could hear soft clanking and rustling as Eren moved behind him.

“I’m fine, don’t draw attention,” he whispered back and the noise ceased.

One of the men walked past then stopped, taking a second look at Armin. “Hey, they’re awake,” he called to the handful of men wandering around the clearing. Armin could see an old cabin and a bonfire pit as well as a couple of ragged, nervous-looking horses tied up a short distance away. 

Another man walked past Armin and he heard the sound of an impact and a loud grunt of pain from Eren. “Hey, sheriff, remember me?”

“Yeah, one of those useless idiots who were more trouble to catch than they were worth.” There was the sound of someone spitting and the man let out a bellow of rage that was followed by another grunt of pain.

Armin managed to flip himself over in time to see the tough pull back his leg and aim another kick at Eren’s stomach. 

“Hey!” A larger, slightly less ragged man grabbed the first and hauled him back before the kick landed. Eren grinned up at the new thug as the man scowled down at him. “We can’t kill him yet.”

“Why not?” Armin cut in. 

The man turned a surprised look on him. “Thought you’d be hysterical for sure, girly.” He bent over Armin. “We can’t kill him because we owe him for more than that. I feel kinda bad but you’re gonna be a part of that.” He hauled Armin unceremoniously to his feet. 

Armin found his balance and glared at the man. “How so?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He gestured to the men, all of them openly leering at Armin.

“No!” Eren yelled and began to struggle against his chains.

“Yep.” The tough yanked Armin toward the men. 

Armin turned his head to smile sadly at Eren. “I’m sorry. I truly am.”

Eren stopped struggling and his brows drew together. “Armina?”

The tough who’d kicked Eren stepped up beside Armin snorted. “You’re gonna be sorrier yet for attaching yourself to this no-good vigilante.”

“I knew that when I began.” Armin drew himself up to his full height.

Confusion flickered through the man’s eyes as he stared down at Armin but only for a moment. Armin’s fist connected with his chin and he went flying back into a nearby tree. Armin ripped the manacles off of his wrists like they were made of paper and walked sedately toward Eren. 

“W-what the hell are you?” the two men flanking Eren flinched back, overbalancing him where he knelt on the ground so he tipped into the mud. His green eyes stayed fixed on Armin, glowing with the righteous energy that had first attracted him to the man. 

“I don’t know what you expected.” Armin reached out and tore the chain leading to Eren’s manacles from one of the thug’s hands. The man stumbled back as Armin turned his gaze on him. “But it’s alright. You won’t have much more time to regret the choices you’ve made.” He knelt and tore the metal from Eren’s wrists and ankles. “Run, Eren.”

Eren staggered to his feet as a feral grin spread across his face. “Not a chance.” He turned and took out the nearest of his captors with a quick kick to the knee then jumped on the man and slammed his head into the ground.

Armin tilted his head then turned his eyes on the remaining handful of thugs. “As you wish.”

Armin’s wings tore free, shredding the back of his dress. He straightened and focused his gaze on one of the men. The man managed one stumbling step back before he became lost in Armin’s gaze. He took a slow step forward. Armin dispatched him with a backhand that sent him spinning to the ground then looked at the rest, huddled together by the cabin, perhaps hoping to find safety in numbers. Within moments he’d caught their gazes with his own and and wrapped them all in his powerful influence. They shuffled forward, expressions torn between horror and terrified lust. “You wanted me?” Armin ripped the remnants of his dress from his shoulders and it fell away to the waist. “Come get me.” Their faces went slack and he laughed as he drew back a hand, talons extended for a killing blow. There were more here than he needed. There was so much power, so much want and fear and raw lust, flowing into him that his head was beginning to feel light.

“Armina!” The call made his hand halt in midair. He turned his head to see Eren tying the arms of the man he’d punched behind his back. Eren’s expression was fierce. “Don’t do it.”

Armin growled and Eren’s expression darkened. “ _Stop._ ”

One of the men knelt in front of Armin and pleaded to be allowed to touch him. Armin barely gave the man a glance before kicking him away. “Why?”

Eren finished tying up the thug and stood. “Because these men need to be taken back to the jail they escaped from to face justice properly.”

Armin raked his claws down another man’s arm as the fool reached forward and caressed Armin’s leg. He fell back, screaming, but the noise didn’t deter the others from moving closer. Armin silenced the bleeding man with a kick to the groin that knocked the air out of him. Their desire washed over him in a wave of pleasure and he raised his hand again.

“Armina.” 

Eren was behind him now. Armin ignored his presence and grabbed a man by his collar, lifting him up until his feet were just shy of dangling in the air.

“ _Armina!_ ” Eren yelled.

Armin ignored him until warm hands settled on the bare skin between his wings. He dropped the man atop the others at his feet and whirled around. Eren moved with him, his hands dropping to Armin’s waist as he stayed safely behind him.

“Armin,” Eren whispered softly in his ear. Armin shivered as hands ran up his back and rubbed against the base of his wings. Eren pressed himself against Armin’s back and slid his hands over Armin’s shoulders and down his chest, wrapping him in a tight embrace. “Armin, you can stop. They’re not a threat anymore.” Armin jerked, trying weakly to get free, and Eren pulled him tighter, the buttons of his shirt digging into Armin’s bare skin. “We’ll need to interrogate them to find out if anyone else is involved.”

Armin shuddered and as his concentration on the men wavered and his hold weakened one of them tried to run. He kicked the man’s legs out from under him and turned his head until he could just see Eren out of the edge of his vision. “Restrain him, I’ll deal with the others.”

Eren grinned and planted a sloppy kiss on Armin’s cheek before letting him go to wreak havoc. When Eren had the last man hogtied he walked up in front of Armin and looked him over. Armin cringed a little as Eren’s green-gold gaze raked over his bare chest. 

“So,” Eren said thoughtfully. “You’re a guy?”

Armin nodded, taking in the damage they’d done to Eren’s face.

“And a... demon?” 

“Yes.” Armin tucked his wings more tightly against his back.

“You were amazing.” Eren’s smile was so genuine and bright that Armin couldn’t help but smile shyly back.

“T-thank you...” Armin stuttered, the power already dissipating.

“Can I...” Eren blushed and it was a strange mixture of cute and horrific with his split lip and the bruises that mottled his skin. “Can I kiss you?”

Armin blinked at him. 

“Well, we were going to have a dinner date. But instead I guess we had... this.” Eren rubbed at the back of his neck and shifted awkwardly, one foot landing on the hand of a thug. He ignored the man’s squeal of pain. “And I just think you looked really beautiful when you were fighting...”

Armin felt a blush rising to his own cheeks. He nodded dumbly. Eren moved forward and hesitantly lay one hand on Armin’s shoulder. As soon as he made contact a wave of lust rushed through Armin, setting his nerves on fire, and before he knew what he was doing he had Eren pressed against a tree and was kissing him like he wanted to drink his soul.

“Armin?” Marco’s voice called through the trees. “Armin are you here?”

“Eren?” Jean’s voice was strained with worry. 

Armin pulled back reluctantly and Eren looked at him with a dazed sort of joy. “Good lord...” He murmured as he ran a hand up the back or Armin’s neck to tangle his fingers in his blond locks. “Again?”

Armin shook his head and began the process of tucking his wings and talons away.

When Jean and Marco found them both Eren and Armin looked normal, if a little battered. Marco lent Armin his jacket and Jean began walking them back to town while Marco hollered for Ymir and some of the other searchers to help collect the men and drag them back to the town jail.


	20. Transformations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As everyone else returns to town Bertolt hits a critical point.

“Lucifer, Bertolt...” Armin stared at his friend in disbelief. Reiner had ordered the core members of the search party back to his house to debrief while he patched Eren and Armin up. While Reiner was tending to Eren Ymir had quietly insinuated that Armin might want to visit Bertolt while he was in the house and Armin had seized the first chance he got to sneak upstairs.

“What?” Bertolt turned his head where he was lying stomach-down on the bed, wrapped in several layers of blankets, and smiled softly. His skin was sunken around his eyes and he was as pale as a sheet. “Armin! You got back safely. I’m so glad...”

“What happened to you...?” Armin whispered, perching on the edge of the bed and taking one of Bertolt’s cold hands in his own. The outline around his deep green irises that had once been a solid ring of ebony was now a muddy brown that flickered weakly. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Armin. They’re so fragile.” Bertolt smiled weakly. “And he’s trying so hard to save them.”

Armin rubbed at his hand frantically, trying to force some warmth into it. “You have to eat something. You have to. You’re really going to die if you keep this up...”

“I know,” Bertolt’s smile faded a little. “I don’t... I mean, I’m scared... But I just can’t do this anymore Armin. I can’t.”

“Bertolt...” Armin gripped his hand more tightly. “What am I going to do without you...?”

“Bunch of fuckin’ _dirt-for-brains!_ ” Came an outraged growl from outside and both Armin and Bertolt flinched as the door slammed open. Ymir stormed in, trailed by a distressed-looking Marco.

“Y-Ymir?” Armin stared at her, confused.

She took in the scene laid out before her. “Oh for... Armin. Were you fucking crying? What the hell kind of _demon_ bawls like a fuckin’ baby at their friend’s bedside?”

Armin narrowed his eyes at the lanky woman in her dusty clothes. “Ymir, Bertolt is _dying._ ”

She strode over to the bed and grabbed Bertolt by his hair. She ignored his distressed squeaking as she crouched by the bed and yanked his head up so she could stare into his eyes. “Yeah, thought so when I saw you earlier. Dumbass. Can’t you feel it happening?”

“Feel _what_ happening?” Armin demanded, grabbing at her shoulder in an attempt to pull her away from Bertolt.

“Shut up.” She shoved him away and looked straight into Bertolt’s widened eyes. “Okay tall and brainless. I want you to reach out and... look for food or whatever the hell you call that thing you do.”

“N-no!” Bertolt covered her hand with his own, trying to pull it free, but it seemed he was no match for her in his weakened state.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Did I _say_ eat? _No._ Just fuckin’ well _take a look._ ”

Armin saw Bertolt’s throat bob as he swallowed but his eyes took on the dull sheen of someone looking _beyond _. After a moment they sharpened again and his eyebrows pulled together. “There... What _is_ that?”__

__“Try it.” Ymir was smiling now but it was toothy and feral. “Gonna hurt like hell the first time though.”_ _

__Bertolt gulped but managed a tiny nod in her hold and his eyes glazed over again. After a minute his breath sped up and his hands tightened into fists. He began to tremble, eyes rolling back in his head and Ymir dropped his head so she could flip the blankets off of him leaving him bare to the waist. “Hey, short stuff, you’d better pin his legs or he’s gonna kick you. This ain’t the sort of thing you can stop once you’ve started.”_ _

__“What the hell is going on?!” Armin demanded even as he climbed on top of Bertolt’s long legs._ _

__Marco, who’d been watching everything silently, came forward to help, moving to the opposite side of the bed so he could take over Bertolt’s far shoulder and arm. “I like you Ymir, but if you’re fucking with us...”_ _

__Ymir flashed them that unsettling grin of hers again. “‘M not fuckin’ with anyone. Boy’s just switching teams.”_ _

__Armin looked down at Bertolt, shaking and twitching and clearly in pain. “You can’t do that.” He snapped his head up and glared at Ymir. “You _can’t do that._ You’re making him _kill_ himself, you _bitch!_ ”_ _

__She just snorted at him. “Says you. Who’s the angel here? Wasn’t always like this you know.”_ _

__“You-” Armin closed his mouth then opened it again but sound refused to come out._ _

__Marco was eyeing Ymir carefully as he pressed Bertolt’s arms down into the bed. “You used to be a demon?”_ _

__She reached into a pocket, pulled out a lump of leather, and shoved it between Bertolt’s teeth as he opened his mouth to let out a short scream. “Hang in there big boy.” She ruffled his hair for a moment before placing her hands firmly on his shoulder again. “Sure was, freckles. For a long time. I was a pestilence ‘til I met my Krista.” Her eyes softened. “It hurt like hell — and let me tell you, sometimes it’s a fuckin’ piss-off to be on the side of good — but she’s worth every second of the pain and frustration.”_ _

__Marco just stared at her as Bertolt writhed and whimpered. Armin managed to squeak out a soft, “But _how?_ ”_ _

__Ymir shrugged. “Dunno. Krista didn’t like me makin’ people sick. Couldn’t bear to see her in pain so I stopped. Ended up like lanky here. Then one day when she was sitting with me she just started glowing, like she was made of sunlight, and-”_ _

__“ _Bertolt!_ ” The half-closed door slammed against the wall again to reveal Doctor Braun, his chest heaving and clothing in disarray. “ _What are you doing to him?! _” The force of his anger rolled over them like a wave. Armin glanced at Marco, his chocolate eyes were shining as the violent energy wrapped around him.___ _

____“Calm your tits, Doctor,” Ymir shot him a flat look. “Your boy’s gonna be fine.”_ _ _ _

____“Like hell he is.” Doctor Braun growled as he stomped over to the bed and shoved Ymir out of the way. He took one look at Bertolt’s white eyes then turned a look so full of rage on her that Armin was almost surprised when she didn’t ignite on the spot. His voice lowered to a soft growl, “What did you give him?”_ _ _ _

____Ymir took a few quick steps back and held up her hands. “Nothing. I swear.”_ _ _ _

____“What _did you give him?!_ ” Doctor Braun took one step toward her but Bertolt let out a piteous cry and he whirled back to the bed. “Get off of him. Let him be!” he roared at Armin and Marco who moved away just as quickly as Ymir had. Doctor Braun knelt by the bed and gently cupped Bertolt’s face in his hands. “I’m here. I’m here Bertolt...”_ _ _ _

____Bertolt went rigid, back bowing, and let out a long howl of pain, reaching forward to cling to the doctor’s shoulders. Armin saw the Doctor’s eyes widen then let out a soft cry of his own as Bertolt’s wings exploded from his back. They quivered in the air, leathery expanses blocking the light from the window. Armin watched, mouth hanging open as they began to jerk and feathers forced themselves through the skin. White feathers. White feathers that soon covered the angry spines and thin membranes in soft profusion._ _ _ _

____“Lord in heaven...” Doctor Braun whispered, eyes so wide that his thin eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. Armin couldn’t think of anything more accurate to say himself. Bertolt groaned as the wings folded away into his back and Doctor Braun’s focus snapped back to his face. “Bertolt?”_ _ _ _

____Bertolt weakly spit out the leather. “Doctor Braun...”_ _ _ _

____“Reiner,” Doctor Braun corrected him. “Just Reiner. I’m here. How are you feeling?”_ _ _ _

____“Tired...” Bertolt mumbled._ _ _ _

____Ymir signalled both Marco and Armin with exaggerated gestures from the doorway. Marco followed her and Armin out, closing the door as softly as possible behind him. As he did he heard the Doctor murmur, “-so glad you’re okay. Don’t know what I would have-” and smiled softly to himself. Whatever that had been, no matter how improbable, it seemed that things were going to work out for Bertolt._ _ _ _

____He walked back downstairs to find Jean, Eren and Krista still waiting for them in the dining room. Marco slid onto a sofa beside Jean and began talking quietly as Ymir gathered Krista under one of her arms and headed out with a loud, “Goodnight and good riddance.”_ _ _ _

____“Armin?” He looked over to find Eren watching him from one of the over-sized sofa chairs with a small smile on his lips. “Is Bertolt okay?”_ _ _ _

____“I think he’s going to be just fine,” Armin replied and walked over to sink tiredly into Eren’s open arms._ _ _ _

____Eren kissed him on the forehead as they snuggled up against each other in the cramped but comfortable space. “And you? How are you feeling?”_ _ _ _

____Armin smiled tiredly at him and leaned in to give him a chaste kiss._ _ _ _


	21. Epilogue

Bertolt spent the entire next day in bed recovering his strength. Mrs. Ral brought him food and kept him occupied with conversation but by the time he heard Reiner’s greeting boom out downstairs he was lonely and out of sorts. When a knock came at his door Bertolt flinched. “Yes?”

Reiner peered around the door and his warm smile washed over Bertolt like a beam of sunlight, soothing away all the helplessness and frustration that had built up inside him. “May I join you?” Bertolt nodded and Reiner walked over and slid onto the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Bertolt returned Reiner’s smile with a small one of his own as he moved over to make room for him. “Lonely.”

Reiner chuckled and reached out, wrapping Bertolt in a warm hug. “Well, if you continue improving like this I’m sure you’ll be on your feet again in no time.” When Reiner tried to let go Bertolt stubbornly hung on. Reiner paused for a moment then laughed and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Bertolt across his chest.

Bertolt melted against Reiner’s chest, deeply content as he listened to the doctor’s steady heartbeat. “How were your rounds?”

Reiner ran his fingers through Bertolt’s dark hair. “Good. Eren’s on bed rest for a few days again but he’ll be fine as soon as his bruises heal. No internal bleeding or fractures, luckily. Armin is with him. Jean and Marco just needed a good night’s sleep and they seem to be back to normal. No one’s heard a peep from Ymir or Miss Lenz which I take to be a good sign.”

“Good,” Bertolt said. 

“Actually.” Reiner’s fingers paused. “Jean visited Eren while I was there. Seems he got some correspondence from one of Eren’s old Sheriff friends. Levi or someone. I guess the breakout was a minor one — they weren’t very organized — and they seem to have caught the instigators with the help of some guy named Smith. So hopefully that’s the end of that.”

“I’m glad.” Bertolt pressed his head into Reiner’s hand until he started stroking his hair again.

Reiner smiled down at him. “What are you going to do?”

Bertolt blinked at Reiner as the blood rushed from his face. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, do you want to stay here as my assistant? You’re free to do as you wish. I’ll understand if you want to leave.” Reiner smiled a little sadly.

“I’m staying!” Bertolt sat up faster than he’d thought possible and found himself nose to nose with Reiner. He felt a rush of embarrassment and looked down, “I mean, if you’ll have me... I don’t want to go... I need you.”

Reiner’s grabbed him gently by the chin and forced his face up. Golden eyes smiled as Reiner murmured, “I’d be delighted if you stayed,” before leaning in and pressing his lips to Bertolt’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥ Thank you so much for sticking with my story all the way through! ♥
> 
> You can visit me on tumblr at my [main blog](http://wingedmermaid.tumblr.com/) or my [writing only blog](http://mermaid-rambles.tumblr.com/).


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